13

my first love

a backwoods man

comes smelling

of wild things

and too long time

apart from the living

armed with gun and flame

he brings his lady tender

rabbit possum and coon

all sweet strong meat

aphrodisiacs to stand

against the end of innocence

· when angels speak of love by bell hooks

High above Mystic Falls, the Hunter's Moon glowed pregnant with incandescent light. The temperature was irresolute, too hot for autumn and yet too cold for summer. And on the far horizon beneath the moon were dark clouds heralding a storm. Not much could be heard but the chirp of crickets and the gentle sizzling of the power lines. The mist poured in bringing the smell of wild tobacco and pine from the deep forest. Magic was in the air.

Perched on the street lamp directly across from the home of seventeen-year-old Bonnie Bennett was a large raven. It had taken residence there many months prior and had made nightly visits ever since. It was peculiarly always peering into the right second floor window. Always watching, waiting patiently until daybreak.

Bonnie would often stare back at the strange black bird peeking into her window. Its initial appearance unsettled her and brought her nightmares of death cloaked in inky black darkness suffocating her into an unnamed ocean. Eventually that one nightmare stopped around the time of the Elena's parents' car crash, it was then that Bonnie started suspecting she was having visions.

The raven cawed lightly startling Bonnie awake from another nightmare. Her mind was fuzzy with the images of fire and the smell of gasoline. She felt panicked like she was going to suffocate. In the nightmare her head was spinning, and her body felt sluggish, her veins itching with poison.

Through half open eyes, the lights from the street lamp seemed to paint fiery shadows along the wall. She felt frightened for a moment, afraid the flames had followed her into the present day. Grabbing the glass of water closest to her bed she chugged it down feeling her stomach cool instantly. Her whole body was feverish as if she were still stuck in the nightmare. For the third night this week she was engulfed in the horrible night terror she prayed wasn't a vision. She couldn't take anymore.

Crawling out of bed she headed to her bathroom and grabbed a few pills to numb the headache. After scooping up some water she caught her reflection in the mirror. The skin around her iridescent green eyes looked hollow, and her normally bronze tawny complexion was pale from sweating.

Unsticking her hair from the back of her neck she noticed her less than straight edges lamenting the fact another hair appointment was needed. She loved the look but hated the feeling of getting her hair relaxed. If it weren't for her general lack of knowledge on how to do her own hair, she wouldn't get it chemically straightened. But she didn't want to be teased again and this look worked for her. She splashed cold water on her face, feeling no more awake than before.

Exhausted was an understatement. For the last 72 hours Bonnie had been wired on caffeine and anxiety and she needed sleep desperately. Between all the extra homework the history sub provided, both her best friends venting about being over the Salvatore brothers and her powers coming in, Bonnie had enough. Sunday was supposed to be a rest day, but each nap she attempted brought the itching fear of a nightmare. So, she did the thing she always did when she was incredibly anxious, she deflected.

She cleaned, meal prepped and got two chapters ahead in at least one of her classes and still found time to stare at her grandmother's grimoire for half an hour. Distractions were always her key to keeping away the hard things, but today it just wasn't working.

At first when she told her friends about being a witch, it seemed like a fun thing, a way to stand out and be special in a good way. She longed for her uniqueness to be greater than skin deep. Well, it didn't feel as good as she hoped. She had always been different but to actually be different , was another thing entirely.

Bonnie did the reasonable thing, she went to her grandmother Sheila Bennett, and asked for help. What she got were philosophical and historical lectures about what it meant to be a Bennett witch and the fight of the natural order (witches) versus the unnatural.

The main figures aiding the unnatural side were never fully described. Bonnie only knew that abominations of nature were only allies to themselves and rightfully feared witches. When it came down to it, she shouldn't hesitate to alleviate the world of evil. However, when it came time for her Gram's to the deliver the meat and potatoes of how to use her powers properly, Bonnie was told she had to discover that on her own.

She was used to doing things on her own, she was always on her own anyway. But it still hurt to think that she belonged to this great lineage of Bennett's and yet no one would do the hard work of teaching her. Some people just weren't the hand holding stick with you through anything types, and she figured that her Grams and her mom were just not those people. Although her Grams offered to answer any questions, after the "you must find your own path" speech, she just figured she had to do it by herself. Bonnie wasn't the type to stay up under someone who didn't want her around. She had learned that the hard way, when a few core friends of hers disappeared for a while for her being too clingy.

Now she knew when to keep her mouth shut, when to talk and when she wasn't wanted around. She just found it easier to be there for everyone else, sharing her feelings just weren't an option. Even if she talked about it with someone it wouldn't fix anything, and after a while no one really cares to hear about how you hurt.

Frankly, sharing her feelings with herself seemed like a waste of time too. Crying and getting angry alone weren't good options either.

Bonnie's overly caffeinated mind was spinning in circles and her body was buzzing with energy. She was desperate for anything to get her out of her mental funk. That was when she had the brilliant idea to go to the Grille. It would be closing at midnight but at least she would get an hour maybe to distract herself and hopefully become exhausted enough not to dream. She was grasping at straws.

She pulled off her pajama bottoms deciding to keep her ratty nirvana t- shirt on and slipped into some jeans and her converse. Her father wasn't home again this week, but she instinctually tiptoed down the stairs. He wouldn't be home until after Halloween, her favorite holiday, another reason she was upset.

Bonnie knew he was doing important work whatever it was, but she just wished her dad would be around more. If he were here maybe, he could help her. Except he had kept her powers hidden from her for all her life so maybe not. At least he could be there, so she didn't have to eat alone. She hated that.

Bonnie looked up feeling the glow of the moon touch her skin like it was sunlight. Tonight, would have been good for spell casting. Bonnie considered for a moment, being a good little witch and using the moons energy to practice, but she didn't care for being a witch right now let alone a good one. The Grille it was.

There was a light drizzle, but the October air still felt slightly summery. Sitting comfortably on the outskirts of town the Grille was a small welcoming flicker of light in the wild wilderness surrounding Mystic Falls. The expansive forestry of her hometown which had once been a comfort to her now seemed like an unpredictable place of peril. The news of animal attacks was on such a constant loop that she had ceased her Sunday morning hikes. Another reason she was so frustrated and couldn't find any relief.

I've become quiet the Peter -pessimist, she chastised herself lightly. Taking a deep breath, she stormed the Grille hoping she would see at least one familiar face.

His back was the first thing she noticed which seemed to be the trend for her and the Salvatore brothers. However, she didn't think she needed to see his back to know that it was Damon Salvatore. He was a frequent patron of the Grille like herself, and the familiar cluster of women and a few hopeful men was a common sight when he was present.

Damon Salvatore had earned the reputation of being a real man about town type early on, and every woman or man with a shred of confidence threw themselves at him. Hell, even the not so confident women and men tried to capture his attention. His beauty intrigued people, but the fact he was dripping in sex and happy to share made him dangerously alluring. His undeniable wealth and family history made him Mystic Falls' most eligible bachelor and impossible for anyone to ignore.

Bonnie hated him, not because of his beauty and wealth. He treated her friends, Caroline and Elena poorly and for that she despised him. Well, that was her main reason but there was something else. Maybe it was because he seemed out of place, and everything about him was larger than life, audacious in a small town like Mystic Falls. Perhaps it was just his beguiling eyes, twin blue moons that pulled her in like the tide. Damon's hold on her was strange, preternatural even, and that agitated her to the core.

Bonnie could see a few empty billiard tables but not really in a rush she headed to the bar to order something to drink. Thankfully, his attention was focused on a blonde who was obviously not Caroline. If Caroline hadn't already expressed disinterest in ever seeing Damon Salvatore again, she would have felt obligated to do something. Instead, she hoped he would continue to ignore her presence, which he did until she ordered.

He was overtly surprised at seeing her there. His gaze held hers for several seconds. Bonnie wondered for a moment if he had forgotten about his date when he kind of smirked and returned to his conversation. As soon as his eyes left, she inhaled not realizing she had been holding her breath. Every time. Do better.

Mentally chastising herself, she grabbed her tea that had been sitting there for who knows how long and stomped toward the open billiard table. She tried to resist the urge to look over her shoulder at him but the itching intuition that he was staring at her had to be confirmed and he was. Damon was looking over his shoulder his forehead ruffled with concern. Concern?

The notion seemed silly, and she was sure she was reading into it. Sometimes she did that, she always got the sense she knew more about a person than what they would tell her. However, in Damon's case she doubted he felt anything for her really let alone concern, besides she wasn't his type.

Bonnie grabbed her favorite blue cue. While a group of guys dressed in all black leather smelling of weed and tobacco watched her silently. They all shared a similar ruddy worn complexion as if they had seen a lot of sunlight with no protection. It was obvious they were bikers, and it was obvious that they didn't like her for the obvious reason, obviously.

Their stares were piercing and meant to intimidate her and get her to leave. However, this was Bonnie's town, and they were clearly outsiders. She was going to stay. Honestly, Bonnie was just too tired and pent up with frustration to care. Maybe she'd use their heads for her pyrokinesis practice. She stopped short of imagining it, afraid it might happen.

She organized the balls the way Matt taught her preparing everything with as perfect symmetry as possible. Finally, it was time to take the first shot and phwuuuuwuweeet!

A catcall bleated out right as she was bending over, she stood up slowly trying not to look flustered and grabbed the cue chalk. Bonnie knew she should go home but her stubbornness was in full force, and she was not going to be run off. Fiery white-hot rage was boiling through her, and she refocused determined to finish her game.

Bonnie prepared for her second attempt when she felt a cold chill run down her spine. One of the men caught her attention. His blue eyes were cloudy and held a twisted depth to them. Bonnie felt a familiar vertigo like she had after waking from a nightmare. Suddenly the mental image came, of her in his arms. She could see a blurry red swastika tattoo on his bicep as his forearm pushed into her throat. She was beneath him grasping for air as he choked her; bottom naked pounded into the dirt. She felt sick and immediately looked away the game was over she wanted to go home but she knew as soon as she left, he'd follow her to her car.

Heart in her throat, her attention was pulled to the creep again. His eyes were half lidded staring at her chest. It was then that she realized that she was braless. In her haste she forgot to put one on. She knew that was no excuse for how they were treating her, but it made her feel dirty and helpless. Her mind was running a mile a minute trying to assess the best course of action when a familiar voice came to her.

"You mind if I join you?" he crooned and she felt her spine tingle and her nipples hardened, she was a mix of fear and excitement. She doubted he was there to save her, but she didn't think it was wise to look a gift horse in the mouth on this one. Bonnie hoped she could convince Damon to stay with her until they left, so no one got the idea to follow her home.

"Sure," she said shakily, hoping he understood her fear. When she finally looked up at Damon, he already had a pool cue in his hand and a bourbon in the other. A smirk in place that she was sure was his default setting at this point. His eyes dipped low for a second just as her arms wrapped around her chest.

"Cold, "he stated as a matter of fact, and he took off his leather jacket. Grateful, she took it . Damon Salvatore 2, my expectations of him 0.

"Thank you, Damon," the words sounded strange together. She never imagined she'd be thanking Damon Salvatore for anything.

"You're welcome, Bonnie," he was looking away from her his eyebrows furrowed as if the words sounded strange to him too.

"Ladies first," he motioned for her to start taking a long sip of bourbon his piercing blue eyes catching her off guard once again.

Unsettled, Bonnie broke contact first, taking another long-awaited breath. She mentally shook the weird feelings away and focused on the game at hand. She bent over lining up for the first shot again, when the sound of another cat call broke her concentration, the white ball drifting to the side barely hitting anything.

Bonnie felt the heat of her anger and her general exhaustion boil into extreme contempt for the men sitting next to her. She thought briefly of calling on her fire, to burn them alive, but she knew it wouldn't be right. A witch's job was to punish the unnatural, could a potential rapist apart of a hate group count as unnatural? These men were only human after all, base but human technically. But how do you tell an officer to arrest a guy on what you saw on his head alone?

Damon sighed loudly, slamming down his glass of bourbon breaking Bonnie away from her thoughts. He huffed as he chalked up the red cue stick. His eyes met hers and briefly shuffled to the men and back, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She felt her heart beating in her throat as he walked behind her and around to the other side. Finally in front of the men that had just heckled her. Damon shook his hips suggestively before bending over dramatically he stared at her winking and delivered a perfect shot three to a pocket.

The group of men groaned whispering something Bonnie was grateful not to hear. Although Damon's spectacle was entertaining in a passive aggressive sort of way, she hoped he wouldn't keep going. But she didn't really know Damon Salvatore, did she?

"What no applause for my ass," he shouted behind his back rolling his eyes.

Bonnie's mouth fell open from shock. It was at that moment she learned two important things about Damon Salvatore. One he was brave and two he was stupid. Not sure whether to smack him for taunting guys much bigger than him or applaud him for standing up for her, she stood still breaking into a cold sweat. Does this count as a 3rd round? Or is this on a completely different score card? Regardless, putting his and my life in DANGER right now is definitely a -100.

"What you say, %! @?!" The biggest one shouted out at him. The one that wanted to rape her grabbed something from his pocket. Bonnie knew she had to do something, or Damon would get himself killed but she was frozen in place. Her muscles were pounding with fatigue and adrenaline, and she couldn't move an inch.

Taking another swig of his bourbon Damon turned slowly looking up at the man who just called him out, "I said, why not applaud my ass, you fat fuck!"

The big guy moved to grab Damon and before she knew it his head was against the pool table. His neck and body were angled dangerously as blood gushed from his mouth. The other men stared in disbelief at Damon, who still had his almost empty glass of bourbon in his hand.

"Who else wants to call me a %! @. Try it, I dare you and you end up like your friend down there."

No one moved but Bonnie could see the guy who wanted to rape her stood up slowly. Something was in his hand, Bonnie finally got herself to act. Hastily, she grabbed the bottom of Damon's shirt tugging and ripping the fabric a little from the force.

Damon was caught by surprise again forgetting she was even there. Probably wondering why, I haven't run yet. That's when the rapist threw a bottle at the back of Damon's head. By magic the bottle broke just before it even touched Damon, falling gently into his hair in large, dulled fragments of glass and small bits of sand.

However, that didn't stop the creep, his next attack was the knife angled straight for Damon's kidneys, but it never landed. Damon grabbed his hand squeezing so hard that the rapist dropped the knife. All the while Damon stared at Bonnie a mixture of annoyance and confusion.

"Let's go," Bonnie stated surprised by the authority in her voice.

"Why?" Damon was genuinely confused," we were just starting to have fun."

"No, Damon let's go," she spoke again this time crossing her arms and looking defiantly at him.

Damon was pissed and perplexed; his eyes were so wide that his irises looked like thin rings around his pupils. She wasn't sure why she thought he would listen to her. She just knew that she shouldn't leave Damon Salvatore alone with them.

"Fine," he smiled it was obviously fake," and don't think it's because I take orders from you Bennett."

"Of course, not Salvatore," she rolled her eyes. The banter felt right somehow.

She turned to walk out without bothering to look behind her. But she heard a small, muffled scream and knew that the rapist had just had his hand broken. She waited patiently for Damon, who came behind her shortly and opened the door for her.

"What were you thinking," she stated rhetorically as he walked her to her car," sure you got lucky with the first and second guy, I mean very lucky." If it weren't for me, you'd have a head full of glass by now.

"What were you thinking," he responded," I mean at first, I thought surely this girl can't be serious right now."

"What do you mean," Bonnie stood in front of him stopping their progress to her car. She didn't know why but she wanted this fight right now. It was sick and she probably wasn't right in the head, but Damon was proving to be a great distraction. At this point she didn't know what she was distracting herself from, just everything she supposed.

"Seriously, do you need me to spell it out for you on how everything you did was so freaking stupid."

"Why is its stupid cause I am a woman who just happened to not be wearing a bra and wanted to play pool at night?" she retorted back her adrenaline rushing in her veins, this time it felt euphoric. It felt good like she was finally releasing something.

"Huh, you having no bra wasn't something I even considered," Damon spoke coldly, staring down at her chest once more taking a longer look, judging them. She had never felt insecure about her bra size, and Damon wasn't going to make her insecure about it. It just annoyed her.

"Seriously Bonnie, if you want to be a free bird, flaunting what the good lord gave you, that's fine," Damon stalked forward, his breathtaking azure eyes cornering her like prey," but little bird don't be surprised when big cats want to eat you alive."

Bonnie swallowed; Damon was so close she could feel his breath tickle her lips. Her body ached with a different pain one she could never remember feeling so deeply before. They stared at each other for a while. Bonnie felt that each moment that passed she got closer to and farther from the thing she craved that she had no name for. The thing she could only find in his eyes, the thing he could only give her. The thing he wasn't giving to her now, but she thought he might want to. In that moment she felt nothing else but his intense gaze, the sound of thunder rolling in and the smell of bourbon and leather filling the space between them.

"Go home, Bonnie," Damon whispered breaking the spell. Bonnie turned around, her Prius only a few feet away.

Bonnie remembered to breathe again, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. She looked over her shoulder to find Damon shaking his hair out looking, perhaps perplexed by the amount of sand in it. The full moon was high in the sky, and Bonnie couldn't help but notice how beautiful Damon was. His skin seemed to glow brightly like he was made of the same material. Bonnie dipped her head down hoping he wouldn't notice her gaze. She remembered she was supposed to be hating him, even though she didn't feel she had a reason too anymore. Bonnie was loyal and as surprising as his kindness was, he wasn't her friend. She called his name and he looked up.

"Don't think saving me excuses anything you did to Caroline, Damon" she stated chin up eyes narrowed," but thanks again."

"I don't really care about your forgiveness, Bonnie," he rolled his eyes with an exaggerated bounce," now go home."

She left just as the storm began to roll over the outskirts of town and over the bar. That night Bonnie was taken by a dream not a nightmare, her naked body was covered in bright white linen and daylight was streaming from her window. She could see fresh snow fall melting slowly, the perfect day just outside. She felt a kiss on her neck that lulled her into a state of bliss.

Monday, October 5, 2009

The news mentioned finding remains of bikers with confirmed affiliations to the KKK. It was determined that they had been mauled to death by a wild animal somewhere outside of West Virginia. They were able to ID the men based on the dental work of one of the severed heads. The picture of one of the slain men was that of the rapist.

The thought did cross her mind that Damon could be behind this, but the murder took place in West Virginia and Damon would have to be different. More than different he'd have to be supernatural to be behind it. Bonnie let it go and didn't think about it again for years.