04

an: thank you for the reviews, i love a good discussion especially when it comes to dissecting Bonnie's character. in the show, she was definitely dehumanized a great amount so i like to make her breathable and real and i enjoy taking my time so i can write her well, she deserved so much more. a few comments made me giggle! as always, read and review and tips always are amazing (link to my ko-fi in my bio) we're doing another candid flashback, this time evaluating some of Damon's dirt because while I enjoy his character, through the years he's always given me an "unhinged" vibe no matter what. also Kai is dead dead, don't worry you guys. anyways!!!! let's get to it.

Wake up?

Right, wake up.

Damon was on the floor of his shower, a naked, spent, graphic mess, red and flushed and gorgeous like an Egyptian cotton towel with the highest thread count.

Despite the awkward position, he was still beautiful and soft- incapable of ruin or deterioration. He was everlasting.

Discarded, he lay, the shell of himself no more real than dream-him as his heart pounded.

"I know this is crazy, but you have to work with me. I'll explain it all later, okay? Don't freak out."

Bonnie was there, always helpful, guiding him back to his body even after he imagined her practically dominating him like they were never best friends. Like her purpose all along was to sate him sexually, make him beg and plea to be used by her. He wanted her to devour him and he told her that willfully, but did this Bonnie know? Damon hoped and prayed, (despite not being a praying man,) that the answer was a hard no.

"You're astral projecting, Damon. You're on a different plane right now but you need to come back. Just let me help you,"

As real as it seemed, he wasn't the man who was looking in the mirror and talking to Bonnie a moment ago, yet he wasn't the man who was balled up at the bottom of his own shower, but he was. Damon realized he just had to get back and merge his sleeping self with his dreaming self so he could figure out what the actual fuck was happening and why he was split in two.

The last time he felt this out of control, it was the seventies at a nightclub: his best friend Hazel, slim, tall with coffee bean skin and an Afro, had given him shrooms right there under the dance floor at the club with the disco ball chandelier. Then, shortly after he digested, the crystals on her bodysuit were talking to him and the fragrance of her perfume formed a tornado around her that wrapped him up until the two were untouchable. They danced the whole night nonstop, the stunning intoxicated pair, and when sunrise kissed the sky the following morning, they fucked what was left of their high away.

Damon swore it was an outer-body-experience where he watched himself drill deeper into Hazel but when they climaxed, he snapped back into his body and eventually the memory slipped his mind.

Returning to reality with his two parts, spiritual and physical, now consciously merged, he felt heavy. The space where his heart was thrummed, he was sensitive to his breath in the way he inhaled and exhaled and he had never been so fully aware of his spine- it tingled with recognition as if it was acknowledging every bone that formulated his vertebrae.

Yes, he was awake, but it was like an awakening. The circumstance triggered his memory of Katherine and the many years ago she had turned him. It was dark, he was cold, so he shivered.

"Are you okay?" There was that girl he knew, the little witch, peering down at him with moons of concern. Her eyebrows were laced with worry, but, he reassured her, he was okay just really, really tired...

Damon stood shakily, a modern-day Pinocchio because he had never felt more like a real boy in his entire life. One leg after the other he entered his closet to grab his dark silk robe, the one with DS embroidered on the chest, and nearly fainted trying to put it on because it took so much energy out of him.

"Bon Bon, a little help here,"

He could barely keep his eyes open to walk, it was unfair the amount of his body weight he relied on Bonnie to carry but she seemed to hold her own. She placed him on the bed gently though he was shatterproof and a vampire for god's sake- why did he feel so weak?

"You need rest, we'll talk in the morning." She seemed so sure of everything, the sound of her steps echoing away in his head, he wanted to ask why she was leaving him. He wanted to tell her that he needed her.

Plus, what exactly could they talk about? It wasn't like he could explain everything that just happened to him. Was she alluding to having more knowledge than him about what he was experiencing? She did say she had something to tell him but what exactly did that mean? What was Bonnie hiding?

His mind was traveling faster than he could physically walk currently so eventually his lids began to drift down. The weight of the day, the excitement, the lust, the terror, and confusion, were all starting to pile on his chest; the ghost of everything he thought would wash down the drain sitting right on top of him and threatening his very breath.

"Holy hell, Damon." He said to himself. He had dabbled an awful lot in dreams but this was new territory that traveled beyond telepathy, the web of it was exhausting to escape, it felt overwhelmingly heavy like his eyelids he was fighting to keep open.

Ultimately, he succumbed to the darkness and the shroud of sleep became him but just on the tip of his tongue, a question sat. He was trying to remember, trying to fathom but the sleep was picking at him like pigeons on bread. And right before he faded into the darkness of a deep heavy sleep, he thought to himself,

Was Bonnie a succubus?

...

Hunger was what it felt like.

But not an ordinary hunger, it was a starvation that was quiet and creeping.

Damon in the prison world, pretending to be Damon Lite: pretty and perfect and almost human while he was rotting on the inside, denying himself the need to feed from Bonnie's lovely vein, the one that throbbed when she laughed too hard. He told so many jokes too, just to watch it jump out at him hoping that if she laughed hard enough it would burst then and there, rain down on him like the reddest heaven.

She never even knew about his downright suffering and he made sure of it because he liked living on the edge, so close to the ledge but knowing he had the self-control to save himself from falling. Plus, a separation from Bonnie wasn't what he needed nor did he want her to feel afraid around him. Damon had it under control. He slipped sometimes but the recovery was all that mattered.

He slipped sometimes.

After the first month of repeating the same day over and over again, he entered where Bonnie slept, hovered over her bed and thought.

He thought about biting her, right there, in that same gorgeous vein. Would she scream? He wondered how much fear would be in her heart. Maybe disappointment. Damon pinched the sheet cover between his thumb and forefinger to peel it back from her skin, a man-made wind that allowed her scent to drift in his nostrils and expand in his throat, almost landing on his taste buds. Almost. He dropped the covers so her scent wouldn't be trapped and breathed in deeply like it would help him think better.

It was an hour later of letting his thoughts consume him before what was left of his morality began to kick in.

This was bad, he was wrong, and if he did anything to jeopardize Bonnie's life or sanity, he would kill himself.

The recovery was all that mattered.

So he carried his legs out of that room after cocooning her in covers and he locked the door. He reprimanded, scolded, and chided himself in the way that Stefan would if he knew about this, then kept a close distance from Bonnie. For a while.

But sometimes he slipped.

And he found himself in his best friend's room on the night of May 10, 1994 again while she slept, the covers pulled back with her scent invading his nose. Her scent tickling the bridge of his esophagus. Damon would tell himself that no one would know if he ever returned. He'd tell everyone he didn't see Bonnie, that they probably got magically zapped to different dimensions so he could enjoy himself tonight, drink her right up since he was so thirsty. He thought and thought in silence until the blood sloshing around in her body was all he could hear.

Next thing he knew, his fingertips were at her temple and Damon fell exactly into her dreams.

"Damon? What are you doing here?" Bonnie was looking at him sassily with her arms crossed at her chest and her hip poked out a bit.

Around them was a party with Bonnie's version of Elena and Caroline beside her, both of them staring pointedly at him, asking the same question but with their gestures and in their eyes. Bonnie's reflections.

"What do you mean why am I here? Just hanging out at a party. Like you three." His brows rose and sank, and he made a crazy look with his eyes. Sent a wink to Elena who blushed and Caroline who scrunched her nose up in distaste.

"No, Damon, you're doing that dream thing again."

"What dream thing?" Yes, he was going to deny, deny, deny so he could really play around in the depths of her mind.

"The invading thing. Trust me, I know because I would never dream about you."

He scrunched his eyes, mock-wounded. "Ouch, Bonnie, what a loud way to admit you don't have taste."

She sneered.

"Get out. I have enough of you in the prison world, let me have my dreams, please."

"Again, here's me still having no idea what you're talking about." Damon froze in a pose of obvious confusion. "I'm not doing the dream thing because this isn't a dream and what even is a prison world? Maybe you should just stop obsessing over me, honey."

"Yeah, right. I'm counting to three."

"Go ahead."

The party continued, the lights started strobing while Bonnie and Damon had a standoff.

"Hmmph. Fine." She dropped her crossed arms and relaxed her stance. "I guess you just happened to be in this dream."

"Again, what dream? And if it was, is my inclusion really that terrible?"

Her hands found their way to her hips before she asked, "Have you met yourself?"

Damon stepped nearer, close enough that she had to tilt her head up to hold eye contact.

"You're right. It's a damn shame, a pain in the ass really, how-"

That infamous smirk rested on his lips, Bonnie merely sucked her teeth and sighed. He leaned down to speak into her ear.

"How irresistible I am. Sorry for that." Then Damon straightened himself back out and wiggled his brows suggestively.

"Ooookay. And now we're going off to the dance floor. Please don't follow us." Caroline chimed in, in a very Caroline-esque way. He rolled his eyes.

Little Bon Bon could run away all she wanted but he was going to liven this dream up a bit. Break some bottles, hell maybe even break some necks.

Naturally, the vampire found himself by the bar nursing a bourbon as he kept his eyes on Bonnie's dancing form. He was plotting, of course, on how to coax her into letting him feed from her even if it was just a dream. Simply letting that idea linger in her mind was worth a shot because thinking about it all night while she slept was going to drive him crazy.

"Hey, there" that familiar raspy voice that made his cold heart warm, Bonnie sure did pay attention to even the smallest details; looking at this Elena felt too much like home.

"Hey, stranger." he lifted one side of his mouth nostalgically.

"You okay?" She asked, gently rubbing his knuckles.

"I will be." Damon took a sip from his glass and glanced back over to where Bonnie was dancing only to notice she was turning the corner with a laughing Caroline.

Even her dream mind was determined to stay as far from him as possible which he found aggravating. Here he was, dying of a desperate hunger and definite thirst and there she was, dreaming about night clubs and the furthest thing from him.

"You can run, but you can't hide," he said to himself before downing the rest of his bourbon.

"Hey, Elena, I think Caroline might need your help. Maybe one too many drinks."

"I'm pretty sure she didn't drink, though."

"No, she easily downed like half a keg, she was upside down and everything."

Dreams were a suggestion, Caroline came stumbling back in, hanging on for dear life to Bonnie's shoulder while Bonnie just looked on, confused.

"Oh, God, you're right. We should head back,"

"No, no take Caroline. I'll keep my eyes on Bon Bon, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." He tapped Elena on the tip of her nose and gave her a chaste kiss for the road.

The way she tasted, the way the kiss lingered- he could almost see himself next to Elena after dinner, after fucking, after showering together. Damon was flying back to the times in his mind, the moments when they brushed their teeth together before they turned the lights out, looking at one another as a means to an end. As a means to a happily ever after. That tingling warmth that came around while being in love, golden and huge like the sun. She would whisper his name in between the sheets, his name a mass, something physical and not idealistic. In between them, it twisted and he'd whisper her name as well to keep it company.

Brown hair and doe eyes could pull anything out of him, even, god forbid, a genuine smile and somewhere inside him, the pit of desperation expanded.

He wasn't prepared.

The emotions hit him and he knew that he missed Elena so much more than he realized that having her this close, in his grasp, like this felt like the pea in the heap of mattresses that made it impossible for him to sleep soundly.

It was so close to real.

So close.

He refused to think that he'd only be able to see her virtually forever. His love for her was a bridge that could help both Bonnie and him escape hell.

Once Elena parted, he kept his eyes on her back like the balloon well out of reach just floating away. He thought that he'd give anything to hold on to her, but the thought was fleeting as rapidly as she was leaving him to support Vampire Barbie. Then he willed it all away, pushed every emotion and feeling back into the suitcase of suppression that lurked in one of his heart chambers.

Damon adjusted his focus, keeping his sights on the little witch, the realest thing in this dream, with eyes over the brim of his refilled tumbler.

Man, he missed this cat and mouse game, especially with Bonnie. It was only so much verbal play he could take before he really started longing for the physical aspect. Step one, take away the exits was in action as Elena relayed his message and carried Caroline out. Perfect.

But then, out popped the ever-annoying little shit, Jeremy Gilbert, making a bee line straight toward his Bon Bon.

Oh yeah, this was that broken neck he was thinking about earlier.

Damon grabbed Jeremy from behind, before Bonnie could spot him and easily snapped his neck. Swiftly, he discarded him in a dumpster outside before dusting himself off and straightening out his shirt. Something about killing Jeremy was therapeutic.

"Looking for someone?" It was all giving him a rush. If there was something Damon needed a trophy for, it was absolutely persistence. Truly. Persistence was embedded in his character, as tantamount as his dashing good looks and charm.

"Yeah, and you're not him."

"You sure about that?"

"Damon." She frowned, her eyes slits of annoyance.

"Say my name, Bonnie. Wear it out." He winked and gently grabbed her by the wrists. "Dance with me."

In the back of his mind, he was noticing her appearance. It was probably how she would look if she wasn't trapped in the same day over and over again. Her hair was darker and longer, stuck to her neck and back as the humidity of the club rose with the partygoers. She was running her fingers through it to allow some air to circulate while she danced with him which forced him to acknowledge how sexy she looked. Her get-up was definitely not Bonnie-like: short, tight, and seamless wasn't something Bonnie wore ever, not even to clubs, and the strappy heels almost made them nose to nose.

He squinted. "Are you wearing any underwear, Bon Bon?"

The look on her face and the cherry red blush bubbling up under her cheeks was a no if he ever heard one.

"You naughty little minx."

"That's none of your business."

"But I already know the answer!" He said in a singsong tone, bringing her closer to him until their fronts touched.

Had he ever been this close to Bonnie before? Probably plenty of times but in this dream there was a charge that he didn't know existed between them. Or maybe he never focused too long on it. She fanned herself, flipped her hair to one shoulder to cool off and his mind was on her neck, elongated, attractive and naked, begging to be bitten. Her eyes snapped up to his almost like she could feel herself being ogled, she put some distance between them.

"You look hungry," she said hesitantly.

"No, you look delicious." He replied and he could feel his eyes darkening, the veins branching out, his fangs elongating, then his face returned back to normal.

Her knees buckled. "Um, I'm gonna go sit down. These shoes are- killing me."

"Yeah, me too,"

"Huh?"

Damon took the initiative to trail behind her towards the lounge area. Despite Bonnie's claim about her shoes, she made no effort to remove them, simply watched his every move with a weariness in her eyes.

"Hey," he said, pulling her closer by the elbow, icy eyes boring in to hers. "You know it doesn't have to. Hurt."

The discussion wasn't about shoes, she was aware. Damon approached her in a manner that reminded her of a snake- seductive and cunning. She had half a mind to say she was being beguiled.

Damon hadn't noticed he backed her into a corner of the lounge area until her back made a soft thud. Her hands sprawled out on either side of her. Heavy breathing. No space between them.

"Scared?"

She shook her head in denial.

"You sure?"

She nodded.

When he sank his head to her neck, she inhaled, tense with anticipation laced with anxiety. Her heart beat was in his ears, her scent was smoke in his brain. With a soft touch he guided his hands up and down her arms languidly, to help her relax. She shuddered.

Everything about the moment made his mouth water, the intimacy, her reactions, that nebulous look in her eyes. Plus, with how badly he craved a release, all of it just seemed to be heightened and he was sensitive to it.

The moment was different from Elena because it wasn't Bonnie through a filtered reality in someone else's mind. It wasn't haunting like a memory or recollection or phantom. This was Bonnie the way she saw herself, the dream engineer. He was witnessing the little witch the way she wished to be.

There was a thread of life inside of her that made her more solid and very, very real, moldable and tactile like soft dough. So good.

She allowed herself to exhale, freeing some of that tension she carried as she dropped her shoulders. He opened his mouth to swallow her exhale mindlessly.

Damon was aware Bonnie was preparing herself for this bite, the memory of pain and fear he could taste in the air but he didn't want her like this. He didn't want Bonnie recovering a memory that happened before they even tolerated each other. Damon needed Bonnie to not only anticipate it, but to want to be bitten more than he needed to bite her. He wanted her to be filled with a yearning so deep it made her double over in pain.

On his favorite vein, he planted a kiss and let his lips linger long enough it embedded in her skin. Then he pulled away slowly, sat on the lounge table behind him and examined her head to toe.

Once separated, the cool air snuck around her. The print of her nipples puckered up that little white dress and he had a hard time directing his eyes elsewhere. He watched the rise and fall of her chest while the silence yawned between them.

There was a plea in her expression that asked him to come back and the same look, the unspoken words she willed herself not to say, crowned the reason for the cat and mouse game. Damon being a pro, he could make the mouse ask herself why she didn't want to be chased. Damon could make the mouse desire to be eaten.

Bonnie's eyes glossed over and she cut off the whimper in the back of her throat a little too late.

Bingo.

"What's wrong?"

"Weren't you going to-"

"But I thought you didn't,"

"I didn't! I don't. I-I"

"I figured, so I stopped. You know what they say about consent."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Wait... did you... want me to?"

"What? No."

"You sure?"

"Um,"

"Um?"

"I mean, if you're hungry you could get a little..sip."

"Aww, Bonnie. I could never." He had her exactly where he needed her, which was exactly where she wanted to be.

"No, it's okay, really." She approached where he sat cautiously like he would jump out at her if she wasn't careful and settled in the space between his legs. He could tell she too could feel how addicting the intimacy was. The fact that it was just a dream made it a little more dangerous, a little more uninhibited. The fact that they were isolated from everyone made more sacred.

He didn't expect for her to sit in his lap, so he damn sure didn't expect her hands to cup his face and bring him nearer for a kiss.

But it happened, a quick merge of their lips while he was utterly shell-shocked, a softness that came and went before he got to savor the moment or at least add some tongue.

And as quick as the action was, he felt things. Things he could never admit to himself even if he was buried alive.

"I've always kinda wondered what it felt like to kiss Damon Salvatore." She said innocently enough, more to herself than anything but her confession struck him. Bonnie was still entirely convinced that he wasn't the real Damon, just a figment of her imagination and it made him want to act out. Suddenly it was bigger than simply biting her neck to leave an impression in her mind.

That familiar desperation reared its head again, having left Elena and moved on to Bonnie, ready to consume. It settled and sank deeper than him trying to convince Stefan to break up with Elena because Damon would help her feel more alive.

Deeper than the years he waited to wake Katherine only to be smote and used while she pined after his baby brother.

It was deeper than his reliance on blood as a catalyst to blink, breathe, and exist- so deep that it was practically removed from him and coming from a place he disassociated with long ago.

God forgive him, he was going to unleash something on Bonnie and she would never ever have to know. A secret kept within the folds of her dreams, he just needed her to be as soft and compliant as she felt.

The way he was staring at her made her feel naked. There were no words, no bystanders, just a warm heat that pooled in the pit of her stomach and warmed her so well, she had goosebumps. Bonnie's eyes grew a deep dark brown like tea, then she crossed an arm over her chest, uncomfortable from feeling so exposed.

Damon concluded that she would still be mouthwatering even if he was human and wondered how Bonnie could be so oblivious to the power within her.

"A vampire and a witch walk into a bar," he said, eyes lazily dragging up her frame, clinging to every curve.

"And the vampire wants to do bad, bad things to the witch."

...

When she awoke that morning, dust was settling in her empty room and the scent of pancakes was in the air as well as rhythm and blues from the nineties.

"How'd you sleep?" asked Damon, eyes drowning hers. She did a poor job of stopping the arousal that stabbed through her as he licked whip cream from his thumb.

She bit the inside of her cheek and averted her eyes from his before replying, "Well."

Damon shot her a look like he knew what that meant.

"Me too."