She was gone by the time he woke. Sprawled on her bed, one arm stretched across the fading warmth of the mattress where she had laid, consciousness was a gradual thing that Damon acclimated to. Going from a state very much like true death to waking un-death was not the most natural thing in the world, and in Damon's case he truly proved what a morning person he wasn't.
Especially with Stefan standing a scant five feet from him screaming obscenities that would make their very desiccated mother spin in her grave. "You SLEPT with her!" Stefan bellowed. "You son-of-a-bitch, you USED her like you did all those other… Did you bite her too? Give her the nightmares and other problems that come to your victims? " Standing in the doorway, Stefan was a black thundercloud of doom. "You fed from her and exchanged blood. Didn't you? How many times? Did you learn nothing with Elena? What happens if she changes?"
"Shut-Up." Damon growled. He had never been a morning person when alive centuries ago. Slowly, black eyes slitted open with reluctance. Ignoring Stefan's spastic comments hadn't made his baby brother wander away to grumble elsewhere, but he knew full well that responding to them wasn't going to shorten his visit from little brother either. "It is none of your business what Bonnie and I do."
Stefan's green eyes widened, narrowed and then burst into fiery life just as he pounced. Slamming his fist into Damon's jaw with a fierce force, his face shifted into the predatory elegance of a vampire. "You god-damned bastard." Stefan hissed, striking again.
Laziness vanished under the first punch. Rising up with more power than his brother had ever borne, Damon tossed Stefan across the room, wincing as the younger Salvatore struck and shattered Bonnie's full-length mirror. 'Ah, I'll replace it.' He promised her silently.
Tossing back the coverlets, he stood with hands on his hips and glared down at Stefan haughtily. "Tell me, Little Brother. Do you make love to Elena in your clothes?" He asked pointedly. "Do you seduce her into a feeding while both fully dressed and absolutely exhausted when the battle has finished and your survival has been bought for yet one more day?"
Stefan shrugged shards of glass off his shirt, coming back to his feet in a half-crouch. Eyes swept up and down Damon. Taking in the dark jeans but the naked chest and feet, Stefan had to reluctantly admit that his accusation of intimacy between his brother and the young witch seemed more and more unlikely. "Why were you in her bed then?"
"Sleeping." Damon tossed the comment with a wealth of sarcasm. "Tell me, little brother, just what is it that YOU do in beds?"
Bonnie had obviously been up long before him and not left hastily. His t-shirt was neatly folded on the small chair beside the bed and his shoes arranged at the foot of the chair. Picking up the shirt, he slipped it over his head quickly and then stepped into his shoes with bare feet. Stefan had fallen silent in the few seconds it took for Damon to become fully dressed, an unusual thing to be sure. "Yes?" Damon asked, feeling like there had to be a question in his brother's mind.
"What happened to your back?" Stefan's voice was low, sullen. "It's scarred."
Damon's mouth grimaced, but he held back from reaching towards his back with one hand. The white scars permanently marring his flesh were a permanent reminder of his own mortality. The long days and nights of healing, the tension of whether or not he'd have time to heal, and the struggle to stay conscious… all jagged reminders of the vulnerability of his immortal flesh. "The Hunter happened." He answered, stepping past Stefan as he left the bedroom. The wards still held around the apartment, his head itched furiously from the magic interference that only struck him while he was hungry.
Turning his back to Stefan probably wasn't wise, given the natural hostility between them and now his brother's inane curiosity, but still, Damon didn't care what his little brother thought or did. Padding barefoot to the kitchen, he felt Stefan shamble behind him spluttering questions that he blithely ignored.
Discretely tucked into the fridge was a dark tinted wine-bottle. It was tripe and commercial, but also an excellent way to disguise the deep burgundy fluid that was his nourishment. "Want some?" He offered in a bland tone of voice. "It's human, I warn you."
"HUMAN?" Stefan's shock was entertaining. "Where did you…"
"Bonnie." Damon shrugged casually, struggling to hide the smirk lurking below the surface. It was a leading statement, the kind of careful phrasing he used to cruelly tease his little brother's sense of nobility and honor. It worked. The hackles were rising and he felt Stefan struggle to harness scant power just to blast at him. "She took it from the hospital supply." He added as an afterthought.
"Damon…" Stefan growled. "Stop playing the bloody games."
"I'm not playing any game." He shrugged, pouring the rich thick blood into a dark coffee cup and setting it in the microwave. "At least," A wry smile quirk his lips with the concession, "Not with Bonnie." Turning slightly, Damon's rested his hip against the countertop with casual ease, as if he'd spent his entire life lounging about this kitchen.
"Why? Why not with Bonnie? What's making her so damn special in your world?" Stefan stalked about the small kitchen in a rather bizarre style of pacing, the angry glares he threw towards Damon paired with the prowling making it a hostile act rather than nervous.
Damon snorted, eyes fixed on the digital counter on the microwave. "You do think you know me so very well, don't you baby brother? As if you were Christ to my Lucifer. The arrogance is truly appalling, and very Salvatore of you. A trait, no doubt, of our dearly departed father." He hauled his mug out before the buzzer rang, draining the cup in a quick slug. "Though, to the point of your inquiry: Bonnie is not of your business, nor of your concern." The mug was slammed down into the sink, the force very nearly enough to shatter the earthenware.
"She's my friend." Stefan growled back.
Damon's short bark of laughter was derisive. "And you show that friendship in so many wonderful ways. Let me guess, when I found her dying in the catacombs, you were writing her a postcard from Paris?"
"Dying?" Stefan's green eyes widened impossibly. The white face paled even more, horror creeping in to his expression and posture. So many things clicking into place, so many possibilities about what he had sensed, about Bonnie's anger and hostility towards her friends. "She... "
"Died." It took willpower to deliberately recall that moment and not shy away from it. Bonnie's ashen face and her fading heartbeat as he held her in his arms, vainly trying to force her to drink his blood held the power to frighten him now as it angered him then. "That was the only time we exchanged blood. Just enough to keep her alive."
"She…" Stefan shook his head with dismay, sinking slowly into a chair as shock seeped in. The changes in Bonnie, the power she held, the anger and her connection to Damon all so clearly understood now. "That's why she feels..."
Damon felt his eyes flash in anger, a low growl under his voice. "No." He argued. Oh, he knew it was denial of a sort, but he just couldn't accept that his blood had not faded from her system after seven weeks. That she still hovered on a vampiric edge, regardless of how she felt to other vampires. "That was over seven weeks ago, little brother."
Stefan swallowed convulsively. "She was dead, though. She died... what if..."
"She died before I gave her the blood." The shout was full of anger. Whether at himself, at Stefan or at Bonnie, Damon didn't know. "I owed her, Stefan. She saved our lives, and she deserved better than to die like that. Her back was shredded with claw-marks, her chest ripped open and a dagger sunk four inches into her back easily puncturing a lung or more. She deserved better than a cold lonely death in the sewers of this town."
"I -- I'm not arguing that." Stefan sank down into the kitchen chair with resignation. "Oh, God. What have we done? We should have been here."
"Yes." Damon nodded, jerking the fridge open and pulling out a full blood-bag. Conversations with his brother always left him aching for more blood. Sip'n'serve style, he shoved the bag into the microwave and heated it up too. "You should have. You should have been with her when she went to Mrs. Flowers and found the old lady being gutted. You should have been here when she discovered a busload of butchered children. You should have been here to comfort her and bolster her up when she had given up and just wanted to die in peace."
He turned about, fixing his brother with a gaze so intent it was paralyzing. "You should have been here to fight at her side."
"But we weren't. You were." Stefan whispered, finally accepting the truth that Damon was presenting. "So. What do we do to make things right now?"
"Go away?" Damon snorted mirthlessly. "This isn't a wound you can bandage, Stefan. You failed her. You took her friendship for granted and then took off. Bonnie had to make do for herself, and I know she did the best she could. It wasn't enough, not against a Hunter. Not on her own."
"But you..."
Damon looked up to the ceiling, gazing absently at the lights. There were cobwebs, faint strands of dust forming a poorly shaped web in the hollow of the ceiling lamp. In some ways, that fragile web was his life, and his connections to the world around him. "But me." It was almost a sigh. "I don't know what will happen, Little Brother." His voice lacked the trademark scorn, he felt as defeated and desperate as he had on that horrid night when Klaus had borne down on them. "I rather doubt our survival."
The dismay on Stefan's face was obvious, as was his concern. "I see." He nodded grimly. "Then, what is it that we are up against?" To give Stefan his credit, he didn't back away from offering help even when he knew he was late to the party. And, Damon was too weary, too stressed by this never-ending nightmare to allow his ego and pride prevent him from building a stronger army. Survival meant everything to him, otherwise he'd never have drunk Katherine's blood so many centuries ago.
His acceptance of Stefan's silently given offer was in his eyes and body language. Wordlessly, Damon poured the blood from the soft bag into two glasses and slid one across to his brother. The message was clear. Stefan was useless to him without the human blood to enhance his waning powers. Midnight dark eyes watched, half-lidded, as Stefan tentatively sipped at the blood. Silence, heavy in the kitchen with all the weight of their angry feud hanging between them, loomed oppressively, but the common threat united them all the same.
Some day, he knew, the air between them had to be cleaned. Maybe, if they all survived this then he'd take the time to find forgiveness for and in his little brother. Maybe. If they survived.
"Apparently, there are supernatural enemies of the Originals wandering around the Earth. Created by a higher power, they are nothing more than serial killers designed only to hunt and kill the Originals." Damon cradled his glass between the palms of both hands, his gaze fixed on the ruby contents within while he spoke, but lifting to pin Stefan with the truth of the message.
Stefan's eyes did an incredible display of shooting wide, but he said nothing, just took another healthy swallow from the cup.
"Our little killer has gone rogue." Damon scratched the back of his neck absently. His hair was getting a little long and desperately in need of a trim; there were small curls forming at the nape. "Bonnie and I have batted around some theories, and the best we've come up with is that either this rogue has gone insane or is being controlled by a sorcerer or witch of some sort for their own purpose and has gone insane by route of the controlling."
Stefan grunted, his fingers spinning the glass in a slow controlled circle on the tabletop. "Which would explain why Bonnie is a target. She'd be the most likely threat to such an individual."
"Yes." Damon nodded. "However, yesterday was our first demonstration of sorcery, so the plot thickens. The other possibility comes from Honoria."
"Fell?" Stefan choked on his blood. "The Honoria Fell? Who claimed she was done helping the last time she cryptically spouted off?"
Damon grinned humorlessly. "The very same. Apparently, Bonnie dragged her kicking and screaming out of retirement. And then there was her diary." It was pinned to the fridge, the folded up note that he'd stolen from the old book's inseam. "Grab that yellow sheet there." He instructed his brother, jerking his chin to the fridge.
Stefan nearly dislocated his hips by the way he jumped and stretched his body over at the same time. His eagerness, while amusing, was precipitous. "Try not to tear it, Stefan." Damon commented dryly. "The sheet is fragile, and old."
Stefan's fingers froze a scant inch above the paper. With great care, he removed the magnet securing it and lifted it as if it was the holy grail. "Where did you get it?" Stefan asked. "It's rather thick, very pulp-based. I'd guess it to be over 200 years old."
"There about." Damon nodded. "Since it came from the lining of Fell's diary." Taking the sheet from his brother, he smoothed it out. "Essentially, this is the recounting of Gul, Shiri and a Hunter. Gul comparable to Klaus, Shiri comparable to you although, without your vices, and the Hunter? A complication and amoral creature without care."
"You're trimming corners, Damon." Stefan slid the page to his side of the table, eyes nimbly skipping across the faded words. His frown deepened as he read. "Shiri was an Original." He blinked at his brother. "She stopped Gul?"
Damon shrugged. "Checks and balances, little brother. Checks and balances."
"And the Hunter killed her."
"That's not the important part." Damon interjected.
"So, what is the important part?"
Damon rolled his eyes. "The Hunter went insane after being denied it's prey. After Shiri escaped him, it went insane with want for that kill." Damon paused, fingers tapping lightly on the table. "It... it's possible that Bonnie is the reincarnation of Shiri."
Stefan's eyebrows found a permanent home in his hairline. "Bonnie?"
Damon shrugged. "I've denied her theory to her, but... I saw her reaction to my blood. You've seen yourself how long the blood-tie is lasting. That shouldn't be, unless there's another catalyst in play, such as her incarnation as an Original in the past."
"And the Hunter's obsession for her is because of that spiritual incarnation." Stefan whispered hoarsely, his eyes opening wide. "It's insane because it wants to kill her, confused because she's not an Original but is the same essence of what escaped him before..."
Damon smiled mirthlessly. "As they say in Church: Bingo." It was almost a relief to share his suspicions. Telling Bonnie she was way off base had been the most difficult thing he had ever done. Clouding the truth was one thing, but in it was her life on the line, and letting her believe she was meant to die would defeat them before the battle even began.
Stefan seemed mired in his thoughts, his brow still furrowed. The early afternoon hour often reduced their kind to less action and more thought, regardless of the jewelry that protected them from death under the sun's rays. Of course, Stefan was always thinking, usually convoluted thoughts that complicated things far more than necessary.
Thoughts that inevitably made things more difficult for Damon. "Stefan." Damon's voice cracked like a whip. His brother's head snapped up when it was just beginning to sag down. "Stop thinking. You'll make a mess. There's nothing to be done for it, except to find a way to kill the Hunter."
"But, what if Bonnie..."
"Don't go there." Damon shot back. 'Don't ever go there.' His mind continued softly, silently. The first true friend he could recall in his long life, and he couldn't stand the thought that Bonnie might not walk the earth much longer.
"But..."
Damon's eyes closed, then opened, the steel in them grim. "Stefan, must you persist?"
"Where is she right now, Damon? What if the Hunter has already found her? It's not limited to the night, after all."
Damn him. Damn him and all his noble knightly good intentions. Damon grit his teeth together fiercely, so much so his gums hurt. "I don't know where she is." He bit out. "And I have to believe that the blood tie between her and I would tell me if she was in danger."
Stefan's eyes flew from his brother to the yellowed paper and back up again. "What if she changes? Will she be like us, or like Klaus? Will we have to destroy her too?"
The image of Bonnie's golden eyes flashed in Damon's memory, that eerie presence and power that should not have existed in a mortal woman. Was that Shiri? Was that the power of an Original, the essence of an Original or her reaction to his blood? "I really don't know, Stefan. I just don't know."