A/N: This is a short first instalment of the next (and possibly my favourite?) mini-series. I'm going away on holiday tomorrow so wanted to get something uploaded today.

(This is my first completely canon fic aka all 8 seasons of TVD happened *regretfully lol* minus the whole afterlife thing. Let's imagine that the scene where Elena lets go of Damon's hand and runs to her family is them breaking up. We all know that relationship wasn't going to last anyway, let's be real.)

iv. Amaryllis

He's started grocery shopping on Monday mornings. It feels productive, domestic, and he has first choice of the more exotic fruit and vegetables. The mini-mart is usually dead at 8am but for him and a couple of grannies humming along to Take That on the store speaker. He's starting wearing earphones whilst he browses too – an eclectic blend of Led Zeppelin and, regretfully, the Hamilton soundtrack – which is why he only the notices the child when a small hand tugs on his jeans.

Damon flicks his earphone cable; the girl points a finger at the shelf.

"Excuse me, can you get that button squash?"

He can't remember the last time he interacted with children… maybe Rick and Caroline's kids? He was probably less than Uncle material, back then. Something about his all black, mild indifference, doesn't make Damon Salvatore the most approachable. "The butternut squash?"

Impatience flickers across her round eyes. "Yes, the button squash. My mommy can't reach it."

He reaches an arm over the broccoli, a little dumbfounded. She grins at him when he hands her the vegetable, a black square where one of her baby teeth used to be. Damon frowns.

"Where is your mommy?"

"She's just-"

"Amaryllis!"

"Here, mommy!"

The voice sparks an estranged familiarity in a buried part of his brain. He frowns again, turning from the crates of veg to watch the kid race down the aisle and into the arms of her mother.

"What did I say about running off?" She says into the girl's hair and again, his mind twinges. She sounds almost like-

His mouth unhooks as the woman stands, the apologetic smile in her lips dissolving to shock.

Bonnie.

"You're back," he says without thinking and despite everything, his grin is reflexive, itching at all his features – the need to run to her.

"I'm back." Bonnie looks as though she wants to run too, away or into him, he can't tell, it's been too long.

"Mommy?"

The kid hanging off her arm is hers. Damon spins a bit under the weight of that; his right hand clutches the edge of the Fresh Fruit and Veg table.

"Relly," Bonnie says softly, "this is Damon. Mommies friend." She looks up, shy and isn't is crazy, how abruptly the past can crash into your present? "Damon, this is my baby girl."

"I'm not a baby! I'm five." The kid protests, bottom lip jutting out indignation.

He's fascinated by her fingers, how delicately they twirl the coils of the – her - little girl's hair.

"My big girl," Bonnie corrects with a teasing smile and he should probably speak again now, shouldn't he? There are words tumbling around his mind but nothing makes sense and there is still so much space between them, crates of tomatoes and potato spuds.

It's been six years since he's seen that smile.

"Why are you both just staring?"

Nervous laughter escapes, from both, and the kid's brow deepens, darting between them, trying to understand something that Damon is scared to comprehend himself. An older lady shuffles down the aisle, momentarily breaking their view, and Bonnie laughs again, in the awkwardness; it's wonderful, he's missed her – all of her.

"Mommy," she whispers (the kind only kids use – barely a decibel above normal speech), "I think you should give him a hug."

And it's like a damn piano plays on his heart when Bonnie looks at him. The kid tugs her hand, taking the lead across the shiny floor until she's in front of him, just like that, here again. Damon takes a breath and pulls her into his chest; Bonnie breathes too, falls onto her tiptoes to hang off his neck.

He wants to say, how are you, you smell different, don't let go, but all that comes out is "Hey Bon-bon."

When they pull away her eyes are marbled, glossy – she blinks and threads, again, her fingers through her daughter's hair. "You look good. Human… it looks good on you."

Damon resists reaching for her again. "Weird hearing a heartbeat, huh?"

"Weird seeing you at all."

"Touché." He glances at the little girl tucked behind Bonnie's leg because now she's shy. "Would you like to come over for tea?"

Bonnie looks as surprised as he feels. "Tea? Who are you and what have you done with Damon Salvatore?"

His mouth kicks up – he's forgotten how it used to do that.

"I'm changed man. Literally."

She chuckles then, it's warming. "Tea sounds nice. We'd like that."

/

He promises to meet them by his car: "Is it the same one?" "The Camaro? Of course." He piles his groceries in the back and leans against the trunk, unable to talk the smile off his face. They stumble out the glass doors, Bonnie laden with bags, and he animates, rushing to lift the shopping onto his shoulder.

"I'm not used to seeing you so chivalrous," Bonnie jokes, her free hand clasping around the girl's.

"What does shifulrus?" she questions, before he can remark.

Bonnie pushes the hair out of her daughter's face. "You know those Princess books we like to read? Well, the Prince in them is always very chivalrous."

"So," her tiny face twists, "He's like your prince?"

"Who?"

And Damon feels another tug on his pant leg as the girl says, "Him."

There's a painfully awkward moment, one that would, back then, be filled with an eyeroll, but Bonnie suddenly can't look at him and Damon feels too guilty about how far removed from that moniker he really is.

Luckily for them, kids move on quickly, immune to unexplained tension. "What's your name again?"

"Damon." He yanks open the trunk and places their shopping next to his, the space looking smaller than it has in years. "And yours?"

"Amaryllis," she says proudly. "But mommy calls me Relly."

He glances at Bonnie above the girl's head. "Like the flower?"

Her mouth indents at the corners. "Like the flower."

The unspoken is punctuated by Amaryllis' dramatic sigh. "Mommy, can we go? I'm hungry."

"Yup," Bonnie rouses, "Stay here with Damon, I'll go get your car-seat."

He stares at the kid with mild horror – Amaryllis just beams at him, like he's the damned entertainment at a birthday party.

"Can I ask you something?"

The hands on her hips unsettles him. "Um, sure."

"Why did your mouth go like this-" she drops her jaw into an 'O' – "when you saw Mommy?"

Well, aren't you perceptive? Like mother, like daughter, he thinks, and smiles at the little Bonnie, their shared bossiness.

"Because I hadn't seen Bon- your mom – in a while. I was surprised."

She chews on her lip, digesting his answer, deciding if it qualifies. Saved by the bell. Bonnie calls her name and she turns, eyes widening.

"Cuddles!" She squeals, jumping up and down at the bear in tucked in the crook of Bonnie's arm.

"Is that… The Miss Cuddles?" He asks with a quirk of his lip, watching the kid squeeze the life out of the bear in delight.

"The one and only," Bonnie says dryly, "She found her when she was two and hasn't been able to part with it."

Two. And it hurts suddenly, watching this little girl, already so big, so Bonnie, because he missed it all. Where does she live? Has Caroline met her? Who's her dad? That one makes him pivot to Bonnie, mouth laden with questions.

She senses it, he can tell, her eyes dim and the shake of her head is barely perceptible. Not now. Later.

And, understanding, he speaks to the little girl smoothing Miss Cuddles' fur. "Amaryllis, are you ready to have a ride in the greatest car in the world?"

A/N: What do we think? I can feel the angst already. Next chapter will be in Bonnie's point of view.