A/N: Deadlines are finished (finally!) and what better way to treat myself than venturing back into this story?

The fire-escape trembles as she hurtles down it – a rattle that that the Original must be able to hear. Adrenaline shocks her movements, her body kicked into flight mode, carrying her fear, her leaping heart, down the stairs. At the last step she launches into a run, immediately steering left down the sidewalk. Distance, however futile, is imperative.

She's almost at the next block when she sees Damon's Camaro crawling towards her. His eyes round through the windscreen. "Need a ride?" He grins, sticking his head out the window.

"Are you serious?" Her question fragments into breaths, chest heaving.

Damon waves his hand at her. "You look like someone on the run."

Bonnie twists behind to the, thankfully, empty street, hating having to keep still. Running from two vampires in a day is more than she can take. "So you can give me back to Elijah?"

"What?" Damon's brow near flies off his forehead, "Why would I do that? I came to rescue you, idiot."

"Rescue me!?"

"Yes. Rescue you."

She hesitates, looking for the lie in the blue that stares, shocked, back at her. "Why?"

Damon bangs on the car door. "Because."

"Because?"

He groans. "Just get in the car, Bonnie. Please."

Please. Maybe it's the delirium of peril but she smirks. "Fine. But only because there's a centuries old vampire after me."

He exhales; masks it as a shrug. "As good a reason as any."

/

Address received; Damon drove like a newly passed teenage boy, even scratched his beloved car. Only when he neared the apartment block did he slow. He had a plan… kinda. It mainly involved running in guns blazing, ready to stab anyone or anything that tried to stop the rescue. To see the witch sprinting down the street like a runaway munchkin was such a relief he could have leaped out the car and hugged her. He didn't, of course. He played it cool, rolling down the window and making a quip like vampire-James Bond.

Damon glances at her in the passenger seat. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

Well, that's a lie. Her little heart is still sprinting and she's looking at the rear-view mirror every other second.

"You don't seem o-"

"Because I've just made an Original vampire very angry!" She snaps. Her hands are shaking on her lap and he has a strange desire to reach over and hold them still. He doesn't.

"Welcome to my world: making people angry." He tries for a smile; she throws him a look nothing short of withering.

"I thought you'd be protecting Elena."

Is that… bitterness? Damon pushes on the accelerator. "Sometimes I do stupid things, clearly this was one of them as turns out you didn't need my sword wielding skills. How did you get out anyway?"

"Aw, are you jealous you didn't get to have your hero moment?" Bonnie's mouth curves. "Like Elijah wouldn't have taken your head off."

"Watch yourself. I could turn around."

She rests her head on the window, as if, finally, relaxed. "But you won't."

But I won't.

"Did you witchify him?" He asks after a beat.

Her face is turned away from him but he can feel the eye roll. "Witchify?"

"Yes, magic, pow-pow, oops your brain is on fire."

Another beat. "I couldn't."

"You couldn't fry his annoying, British ass? Don't tell me you've got the hots for Elijah. Stockholm Syndrome much."

He receives a slap on his arm for that. Probably merited.

"Believe it or not, I'm not all-powerful," she hesitates, poking her tongue against her cheek, "I… had help."

"From who!?"

And there's definitely a smile as she says, "A friend."

"Okay cryptic. Must be some friend." His words carry a frown. Almost like he's jealous, which he isn't, obviously. He just hates mystery.

"He's clever. And brave."

"Gross. You sound like you're in love with him. Thought you had Jeremy on the go?"

She twists to glare at him. "I don't have anyone 'on the go'."

"Whatever you say," he says coyly, watching the road but feeling the fire of her stare. Why does annoying her feel so good?

"I mean it, Damon."

"I mean it, Damon," he imitates, like a seven-year-old on the school playground. Flirting. Shut up, he scolds himself.

"One hundred and eighty something years old. Mature."

He laughs; the ease is disconcerting. Is he enjoying Bonnie Bennett's company? "One hundred and eight something years old and sexy. You can't be both."

Damon's stare flickers to the witch in his periphery. She's smiling at something in her palm (and not at his joke).

"What's that?"

"A message from Luka - the friend. He says it worked; Elijah has no idea."

"Great," he relaxes against the leather seat, "tell your boyfriend thanks for the weather report."

"Not my boyfriend," she corrects, smoothing the magic paper of its wrinkles, folding it into four like she's saving it for scrapbooking. Did that thing seriously just poof into her hand?

"But you want him to be?"

"No." The paper is slipped into her pant pocket.

"Because of Jeremy?"

Bonnie blows out a breath, "I don't know." He readies for more questioning but the witch cuts him off. "Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life? My life in general? It wasn't that long you didn't care if I, and I quote, 'lived or died'?"

That gets him stumped. It's just happened – an unexpected happening – that he now does. Like a lot. Like enough to get his car scratched, risk his life kind of does. And it can't be just for Elena because he hasn't even texted to say he found her. Shit. I should probably do that.

"Well?" Bonnie probes, evidently as impatient as him.

Damon shrugs. "It means you're tolerable. And can occasionally do useful spells."

"Or maybe you like me a little bit?"

He nearly slams on the breaks. "What!?"

"Not like that, idiot," Bonnie eyerolls, "Ew."

Ew… yeah. Damon frowns the counterthought out of his mind. "Frenemies," he declares.

"Frenemies?"

"Yeah. Between."

She shakes her head, muttering something about him being a complete man-child, but agrees, lifts a brow and says, "Okay, frenemies."

They drive a few minutes in silence; Bonnie leans her head against the window again. He checks his watch: 8:25pm. Not bad… Elena will- SHIT. Elena.

"Text Elena and let her know you're safe."

"With what phone?"

"Mine, sassy." He flicks it onto her lap. "Tell her to stay indoors."

"Shall I tell her where we're going? Where are we going?"

"No and I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Damon fights an eyeroll of his own. "Relax, okay? We're just putting distance between us and the suit." Elijah's new nickname amuses him; he glances at Bonnie to see if it did her. Unamused would be an apt description.

"What about the others, Damon? Won't Elijah just go after them?" She stares out the window, stiff with indignance, "This is selfish."

"No, being selfish would be enjoying the time I have with Elena whilst Stefan is in the tomb," he snaps, admitting something he hasn't even admitted to himself.

Bonnie lifts her head. Her eyes are round with understanding, fucking understanding, and that just irritates him more. Bonnie the good, Bonnie the moral, Bonnie the empath… even with the dick in love with his brother's ex-girlfriend.

"Can you just text her?" He says sharply, "She's worried."

"Right, sorry."

Damon relaxes in the silence. The witch is watching, again, the blur of car lights beyond the window, and it's nice to get out of Mystic Falls, it is. Leave Elena and his web of feelings.

"Can I ask you something?" Bonnie says suddenly.

"Depends."

"Why are you waiting for Elena to choose you?"

Yeah, no. "That's outside the boundaries of frenemies."

She chews her lip, "I just think you're restricting your-"

"Are you tired?" He interrupts, "There's a motel in about 10 miles. I saw a sign."

He watches the cogs in her brain whir.

"Separate rooms, don't panic."

"Um sure. I'm… can I eat first?"

She doesn't have money, so I'll be paying. Basically, a Bonnie and Damon date night.

"I think there's a restaurant next to the motel. Don't be awkward and say you're vegan or something."

She chuckles; Damon's eyes narrow.

"Coming from the vampire it just sounds… funny."

"Now who's mature?"

They slip back into the silence. Almost. Bonnie's question is invading his peace so he switches the radio on, filling his mind with some Led Zeppelin. Before long Sheldon's Motel and Restaurant flashes its epileptic yellow sign and he pulls off the highway. The parking lot is empty but for an old truck. Classy.

"Your castle awaits," he says dryly, stepping out onto the gravel-weeds hybrid.

Bonnie pushes on the car door and immediately pivots left and right, her heartbeat bouncing back into his senses.

"Hey," he touches her arm, "Elijah's too fancy to set foot in this place."

She blinks down at the contact; Damon swiftly picks his hand off her jacket. "Let's eat."

/

Eating dinner opposite Damon Salvatore was definitely not in Bonnie's agenda for the week – or ever. Neither was getting abducted. She reaches for another fry, or five, pushing the Original out of her mind.

"Wow you were hungry," the vampire comments.

"Shut up," she mumbles through her mouthful, "I've been through trauma."

He lifts his palms. "No judgement, little witch, just an observation."

And again, warmth simmers at the nickname. She's comfortable with him, there's an ease to their interactions… the same she noticed that morning at the Boarding House, before Rose slid her arm over his torso.

"Besides, Luka and Jeremy might like a more… cuddly woman."

Doesn't mean he's not a dick.

"Such a charmer, Damon."

"Please," he grins (it sets his eyes alight), "You couldn't handle my charm."

Try me. Bonnie reddens at the instinctual response, grateful sense and reason swallowed it before release. She takes a large gulp of milkshake, willing his eyes to stop studying her. He kept glancing at her in the car too.

"Who do you think Sheldon is then?"

"The Motel owner? Probably dead."

The vampire winks. "Or alive."

She leans across the table for another chip – Damon snatches the basket away with a victorious eyebrow raise. "You were stealing them all."

Bonnie settles for more milkshake. "What's it like being… alive?" She asks after a sip; the question just sort of falling out. Immortality has never appealed to her. Living indefinitely… it must take the intensity out of life.

But looking at Damon's stunned expression, she regrets it immediately. Should have saved that for Stefan or Caroline – an actual friend. "I don't know why I said that," she says lamely, to her plate.

"It's tiring."

Bonnie looks up.

"You feel like you're always trying to find that thing… the thing that makes it all worth it." Damon threads a hand through his hair, something unreadable in his eyes – maybe sadness – and then it melts back into a cold, blue absence. "I'll go get us rooms," he announces, pushing back his chair.

And the mystery of Damon Salvatore continues.

/

"Get us two rooms," he speaks at the greasy haired clerk at the desk, "Overlooking the road, not the woods."

The puppeteer nod pleases him; the vacant understanding of compelled eyes. Bonnie wouldn't agree with this but he doesn't answer to her. He doesn't answer to anyone. She's asked too many questions tonight that have set him thinking. Damon Salvatore doesn't think.

"Here are your keys. Room 7 and 8."

He takes without a thank you and trudges moodily back to the diner to collect the witch. She smiles at him. When has she ever smiled at me?

"Room 7 or 8. Take your pick."

"Er, eight I guess." She's trying to read him again but he's not going to let her. Bonnie and her smiles and her questions… He's completely unbothered.

He strides ahead of her down the brown carpeted corridor, fighting to put some distance between them – space to empty his head, get drunk on blood.

"This is me," he announces, "Night."

"Damon…"

"I just need a drink," he tells her, twisting the key in the lock.

"No, I mean… I don't want to be alone."

What the hell is she suggesting?

"Believe me, under any other circumstances I wouldn't ask but…"

Her sneaker traces over a stain in the carpet; through the cracks in the window, a breeze forces its way into the corridor. Is he seriously….?

"A few hours ago, you wouldn't even let me in your house. Now you want to share a room?"

Bonnie chews her lip, wide eyes looking everywhere but him. "I didn't trust you… I'm sorry."

Fuck is their relationship making strides today. Damon pushes on the door – opens it for her. Bonnie shuffles through, all her Bennet-spunk dissolved.

"I sleep on the left," he says by way of acceptance.

"Okay."

He shuts the door, inhaling the damp of the room. Even the bed is brown.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

"Right."

The bed groans with his weight. I wonder how many murders have happened in this room? Damon twists to get comfortable and feels the round shape of the moonstone in his pocket. He places it on the bedside table just as Bonnie renters the room.

"You got it then?" She asks.

"Smart thinking."

Bonnie shrugs, still standing by the bathroom door, hesitant to move towards the bed.

"I've decided not to sleep naked tonight," he tells her, suddenly wanting to break the awkwardness, settle back into banter. Banter that's now become their thing.

Bonnie looks even more uncomfortable. "I think I should sleep on the floor."

Charming. "Don't be stupid. You said it yourself, you trust me now. I'm not going to kill you."

"You know 'I'm not going to kill you' aren't always the most assuring words." But she edges closer anyway.

"And if you're worried about the other activities, you're not my type anyway."

The weight of a pillow collides with his head. "Neither are you."

Well that doesn't sit right. "What do you mean? I'm everyone's type."

"The fact that you're not even being facetious with that…" The witch rolls her eyes. "Never been rejected, Damon Salvatore?"

Katherine. Elena. "No, it's a new experience. Not sure I'm enjoying it."

She's wriggled her way under the covers, eyes glittering with amusement. Glittering? Damon rolls over. Away from her.

"I forgot. You like the Jeremy's of the world."

"Something like that… Can you switch the light off?"

He leans across the bedside table, plunging the room in darkness.

"Damon?" Bonnie's pulse beats steadily – he finds himself counting.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Her hand brushes against his leg, an accident, judging by her fast it darts away, but the shock it sent through him… slightly terrifying. "Sorry."

He wants to say something but his words have dried and the clock in the corner of the room keeps ticking and he lets what might have been fade to silence. Bonnie's breathing has become rhythmic anyway. Out like a light.

An hour later his phone rings: the number unknown. Bonnie stirs with the sound and he slips out of the warm bed (much warmer than his one back at the Boarding House, nearly three times the size and often empty) into the bathroom, careful not to wake her.

"Elijah," he hisses into the speaker. Back to the old Pretty Little Liars shit.

"I see I'm predictable," the vampire drawls. "How is my witch?"

He shivers at the phrase. "She's not your anything," Damon snaps, "What do you want?"

Elijah exhales. "My brother Niklaus has found himself in some trouble and, being the noble older brother, I am required to assist him. This means leaving Mystic Falls…" The smile in his words is palpable, "You're welcome."

Damon leans against the door. "So that's it?"

"Unfortunately, life doesn't work quite like that Damon. My brother will be wanting the girl –"

"If you lay another hand on Bonnie…"

"Bonnie? I meant Elena," the Original chuckles, "I was mistaken. She is one of your obsessions."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he hisses, teeth gritted.

"Elena, Bonnie… what other poor girl are you going to latch onto?"

"I'm not in love with Bonnie."

"I never said anything about love. Interesting."

What I would do to punch his smug face…. "Remind me why I'm still taking to you?"

Elijah laughs again. "Always a pleasure, Damon. I hope you can keep yourselves entertained before my return."

"Oh, we'll try," he snarks, resisting, with all his will, the urge to tell the bastard where to put it.

"I see what you like about her, by the way. She's… vibrant."

And this time Damon can't be assed with niceties; he hangs up and climbs back into bed, the little witch's snore titling his mouth upwards.

A/N: Please review! Feedback makes me so happy. See you soon (and happy new year!)