~1~


~Chapter One~


She gathers rain
To rinse away all her guilt and pain
She gathers rain

~Collective Soul, She Gathers Rain~


"So… how was it?"

"How was what?" I ask, ripping my gaze away from the ever-changing scenery on the other side of the window.

"The whatever-you-called-it with that girl yesterday. About the apartment. Was she a crazy ax-murder type—because if she was, I owe you an 'I told you so.'"

"Damon—really? You are more concerned about being right than my safety?"

He ponders this, looking over his shoulder before he turns into the hospital parking lot. "Well, yeah. Those moments are priceless."

"You want to try that again?" I cross my arms over my chest, making it clear that my question is more of a demand and not a suggestion.

"I'm glad you didn't get cut up into tiny pieces and put into some crazy chick's freezer."

"Man, you really know how to make a girl feel special."

Damon pulls into a space by the entrance to the maternity ward, puts the car in park, and looks at me. He flutters his lashes, pouting ever so slightly, eyes wide with innocence.

"So, you've told me," The air of naivety drops in an instant, leaving a mischievous smile in its place.

"Not lately," I retort, agitated.

"Are you frustrated about something, Bennett?"

"No… yes… I don't know!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "Why does everyone keep asking me stuff like that?"

There is no trace of amusement in Damon's voice when he answers. "Because I love you."

"I love you, too," I whisper, leaning back against the headrest.

"Also, Malibu Barbie is worried about and so is Elena. Oh, and Stefan—and I feel obligated to calm him down. He's way too young to have so many forehead wrinkles. But it's mostly because I love you—that's why I said it first."

"Then why did you talk about everyone else?"

He shrugs. "Just in case you needed more motivation."

"To what?"

"Tell me what's upsetting you," he states, and then he waits for me to respond.

I can't; not right away. I close my eyes and think. What is the easiest way to explain myself?

I don't actually have an answer when I begin talking. I figure if I can express myself properly to anyone it will be Damon. "I'm tired, but I shouldn't be…"

"I disagree."

Of course, you do, I think, but I don't believe he can convince me otherwise. He's still going to try, though. "Why?"

"Well," he starts, and I can tell he's about to launch into a detailed monologue that only he could deliver with such confidence. "You did have major surgery recently—"

"Not really."

"Says the girl who canceled her follow-up appointment last week."

"I was busy," I say defensively.

"… because she didn't want to be told she's overdoing it."

"So?"

"So," Damon says, voice clipped. "I'm going to have to remind you that we had to go to the doctor anyway because you hurt yourself trying to… what was it again…?"

"I was helping Elena move her bed so she could get something out from under it," I mutter, bowing my head, unwilling to meet his gaze.

"Yeah, that was a questionable life choice."

"I went back to the doctor after that."

"And you still need to go again."

I sigh, burying my face in my hands, and when I begrudgingly admit that Damon has a valid point, my voice is muffled.

"… it's okay, Bon Bon. Just let it out—whatever is bothering you, please tell me. I'll do whatever I can to help."

"It's so many different things, Damon… I don't know where to start."

He takes his seatbelt off, and when he goes to remove mine, I shift my torso; so, he doesn't need to worry about smacking me in the face with the buckle. And then he wraps an arm around me, bringing me into the world's most awkward embrace. "Start anywhere—I'm listening."

I relax, dropping my hands into my lap. "Okay… I know I told you I didn't really think about what I was doing when I helped Elena out, but I did."

"No!" Damon gasps in mock surprise. "I never would've guessed."

I throw him a withering look. "I just… I'm so used to just helping everyone that I'm angry that they think I can't anymore. I'm looked at so differently now…"

"You had a human being cut out of your body. That experience isn't necessarily a walk on easy street."

"But… people bounce back!"

"Yeah, usually by following the advice of a medical professional."

"Well, what about you?" I had wanted to sound snippy, but my words come out sounding weak and squeaky like I'm trying to hold back tears. "This is hard on you, too."

"Yes, but, my hormones haven't been on speed the past few months," he reasons gently, kissing me atop the head. "Of course, I was scared. Terrified, actually. I still am sometimes, but I just remind myself that Amelia's alive, and it keeps me going."

"I fucked up," I insist pitifully.

"No, you didn't."

"I couldn't keep her safe! I – I… I don't understand why!" I try to steady my breathing to no avail. I hiccup and sputter as my eyes begin to well.

Damon places his palm on my cheek, wiping my teardrops away with his thumb. "It's not anyone's fault, Bonnie. Sometimes, the universe just says, 'fuck you' because it can."

"What if I can't do it? What if I'm not a good enough mom?"

"That's not possible," he assures me and I'm beginning to wonder if his God complex has gotten worse. How can he sound so certain about something unpredictable?

"How do you know?" I inquire skeptically.

"Because I'm always right—and because you're you."

Yeah, but this me is currently a blubbering basket case, losing her mind over something that can't truly be measured in a scientific capacity.

"… you make me wish I was half as amazing as you," he goes on. "You are so strong, Bennett, you put superheroes to shame."

"You sound serious."

"Because I am," he murmurs, hugging me even tighter.

"… I don't know what I'd do without you," I tell him. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Well, you're in luck, because I'm not going anywhere."

I make a move to correct him but stop short. He doesn't mean it in a literal sense. I wish he implied multiple contexts to it, but I know the metaphorical meaning holds far greater value.

And I think that's the first time I believed anyone who told me that since Grams died.

~~X~~

I wake up in a cold sweat, my breathing heavy and shallow.

My heart is pounding against my ribcage, palms clammy, my body a contradictory mixture of hot and downright freezing. My hands are gripping my comforter so tightly that I'm mildly surprised that I haven't ripped a hole in it.

A cursory glance around lets me know that whatever I just experienced was nothing more than a nightmare. I'm in my bedroom, and it's the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through my sheer curtains, casting an ethereal shadow across the floor. My phone and an untouched water bottle sitting on my nightstand—the digital clock face reads twelve in the morning.

It was just a bad dream, I tell myself, repeating the phrase over and over again in my head. As I'm reciting reassurances, I take huge gulps of water, desperately trying to overcome the dryness in my mouth.

I've finally gotten myself together, the water bottle now empty and crushed in my hand. Just a bad dream… the horrible thing, though, is that it felt so real—so lifelike that I hadn't known I was asleep as the fiasco unfolded before my eyes.

Really, I shouldn't have been so easily fooled—it's the same dream I've been having on and off over the past couple of nights. Each time it happens, nothing changes. I'm always overwhelmed with a barrage of happiness, only to have terror cloud over it like a thick, gray fog. Until it's completely tainted everything, ruined it beyond repair.

Perhaps the most unsettling part of the matter would be how it destroys any possible hope I had of going back to sleep. Once it happens once, it'll happen again. I'll have the same dream five times a night, depending on when I go to bed.

Thankfully, it's not a daily occurrence, so, it's not inhibiting my ability to sleep completely. I have mostly good nights and still wake up tired—as if I've never rested before. But every so often, my fears rear their ugly head, awakening to torture me.

It's too bad tonight has been a bust… I had wanted to be somewhat chipper for Mehri's visit later today.

Ever since I met her, Mehri has always been so nice. She makes way more of an effort to come to see her cousins than my Dad did when it came to attending my dance recitals.

Although, believe it or not, she hadn't overheard my conversation with Elena when we all went to dinner. She didn't even know I was pregnant until Giuseppe had let it slip when she carpooled with him to the school.

She showed me the same pride in me as she had Damon and Stefan, hugged me, and didn't demand any further information from us when her uncle walked away. And for that, I am grateful, because if I have to listen to another person fret over whether or not everything is okay, I will lose it.

Tomorrow will be a normal day… just relax…

But I can't—I spend the next hour tossing and turning, before finally turning on the light and walking over to my bookshelf. I select a book that's slightly battered, spine creased, with the corners of the cover bent and curling upward.

It's not a soothing bedtime story, but it's weird and angsty and I'm hoping that the hurdles the main character faces will keep my mind off my nightmares.

Or, maybe, I'll just be lucky enough to cook up a horrible dream that has nothing to do with the one I've been having.

Either way, it's worth a shot.

~~X~~

I'm lounging on the couch in the Salvatore's living room when Caroline comes in, bright-eyed and energetic. She looks absolutely ecstatic. This get-together is the first in a series of stay-cation activities on Caroline's calendar.

I find myself slightly more appreciative of her insistence on keeping everyone busy, taking the lead and planning what we would do, taking everyone's preferences into account. Partly because I want to cherish the time we have together before everything changes even more, and partly because I'm not so sure I should be spending so much time inside my own head.

"Is Mehri here yet?" Caroline asks, sitting in-between me and Elena.

"No," Stefan calls from the kitchen.

Damon flops onto a nearby armchair, propping his boot-clad feet on the ottoman—because his dad hates when he does it. "I mean, I love her and all, but why are you rolling out the red carpet like she's a celebrity?"

"Because," she says curtly. "This is our last summer before college—we have to enjoy it."

"Yeah, Damon," Elena interjects. "Stop being so grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy, I'm tired. Some of us have responsibilities—unlike you and Teen Talk Barbie."

Caroline's mouth drops open, brows furrowed, eyes throwing daggers in his direction.

I toss a pillow at his head, and when he almost misses catching it, I realize he isn't kidding—he's tired. He doesn't look it, though. But then, Damon is good at concealing things he doesn't want you to know.

That doesn't give him the right to be a dick to Caroline, though. "Damon—stop being an ass."

He sighs, expression softening. "Sorry, Caroline. I didn't mean it like that, I just couldn't sleep last night. I guess I am grumpy."

"It's… fine," she says, but I can tell she doesn't really know what to think. Not the response, he gave, I'm sure.

The corners of my mouth quirk up in my first smile of the day, a silent gesture meant only for Damon to see. And when Caroline and Elena wander in to help Stefan bring the snack foods out, leaving me and Damon alone.

"You okay?" I ask, moving to sit on the arm of his chair.

"Yeah, I had a weird night, that's all. I just felt… off."

I kiss him on the cheek. "Off how?"

"I don't know how to explain it," he admits. "It was like the night before you went to see that place. I actually had a nightmare that girl went Lizzie Borden on you."

"Wait… you were really worried about me?"

"Don't get carried away, Bennett. I was scared the blood would stain my jacket."

"Is that all?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused.

"You're not having a Bonnie-esque breakdown?"

He lets out a small laugh. "God, I hope not. Amelia wouldn't stand a chance at being normal then."

"Well, with you for a dad, her odds aren't that good as it is."

He looks at me indignantly. "You're the weirdo, Bon Bon—I'm the cool parent."

"I don't think I'd use that terminology." I shake my head. "It doesn't feel, right, you know?"

"Uh, no. I thought it was already decided. I won that game of Uno, so I am the cooler one."

"I think you're the superhero, Damon."

"No way," he scoffs, poking me in the ribs. "I'm the sexy villain with the badass redemption arc."

"If that makes you happy… then, yeah—that's what I meant to say."

I lean in for another kiss, only to be interrupted by a chorus of gagging noises.

"Get a room," Caroline says, groaning theatrically. "Or, better yet, don't. I don't want to encourage you, Damon. Haven't you already ruined Bonnie's innocence?"

"I love how everyone thinks I was the instigator." Damon laments. He makes it sound like a joke like there's no way I thought of it first.

He actually thinks it's hilarious, as it spawned many inside jokes, and I have to admit, some of the punchlines are funnier than they should be.

"Damon, your middle name is instigator."

We all turn at the sound of Mehri's voice.

She's standing in the foyer, a playful grin on her face. She looks like she's enjoying the summery weather—her skin is sun-kissed, like she's enjoyed multiple days lounging by a pool. Thick, dark hair flowing down her back, sunglasses perched atop her head. She slips them off and stashes them in her tote bag, kicks her sandals off, and rushes over to give Stefan and Damon hugs.

Then she faces me, throwing her arms around me. "Bonnie! I'm so glad you guys came over!"

When she lets me go, I notice that she's replaced the stud in her nose with a more noticeable gold hoop to compliment her orange sundress.

I wish I could feel half as good as Mehri looks.

But wishing for something doesn't make it a reality—sadly. If that were true, Amelia would be in my arms instead of where she is, hooked up to monitors and tubes, a constant beeping sound tracking her vitals.

A noise that haunts me when I close my eyes at night, hoping for a decent night's sleep.

Mehri is greeting Elena and Caroline when she asks how we are doing.

"Good," says Care.

"Great," says Elena.

"What they said," says Stefan, taking a potato chip out of the bowl in his hands.

Mehri gazes at Damon and I expectantly, a hopeful glint in her brown eyes. "So, I see that you're continuing to prove that I was right about you two all along."

"Maybe—so, you had one good observation. I'm not going to give you a trophy because you correctly deduced that I'm attracted to Bonnie."

"It was the UST, right?" Care nods toward us. "The sexual tension between those two made me feel like I was watching a teen soap opera."

"Oh, totally." Mehri agrees enthusiastically. "Except, it was apparently dealt with when I saw Damon looking at Bonnie like she was his whole world."

"I don't do that," Damon mutters, and it's obvious that he doesn't like people trying to mess with his reputation because I notice several telltale signs he's fibbing.

The muscles in his arm twitch and he averts his eyes for a half-second, using the moment to compose himself.

"Damon's actually being nicer than usual," Caroline remarks. "I blame it on Amelia. She's the one that's got him wrapped around her little finger."

"Oh, the baby! How is she? And how long were you going to keep her s secret?."

"Fine, small, and for much longer than she actually was." Damon rattles of each answer with ease.

"Will she come home before you leave?"

Damon frowns. He hates thinking about it. "I don't know, she's fine, but she's not gaining weight like she should."

Mehri's happy expression falters. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. Why don't we change the subject?"

"Oh," Care says, face lighting up. "Where'd you get that dress—it's so cute!"

"This little shop in Alexandria. It always has really good sales—it's called Flair."

"Ugh, I've been dying to go on a shopping spree! These two are boring shopping partners!" Caroline jerks her thumb at Elena and I, rolling her eyes to drive her point home.

"Not true—we helped you pick out your graduation dress. You even said you couldn't have decided on it without us!"

Elena is right, but Caroline just pouts, and I immediately figure out what's coming next…

As if on cue, Care flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and stares us down. "Would you guys drive to Alexandria with me?"

"We could all go," Mehri suggests. "We can take my car—if we leave now, we should be able to get there by one-thirty."

"Please?" Care asks pleadingly.

I want to go, but I'm not thrilled at the prospect of parting with Damon. My grip on his hand tightens, and I'm worried about how much I miss him when he's not around. It's almost ridiculous—I spent so much of my life with Grams, and when she died, I was on my own, drowning in loneliness and grief. It's been so wonderful having Damon by my side, and I want to make every moment leading up to his departure special.

Reading my facial expression, Care looks down at her phone, frowning, and types something out. "… they have a men's section…"

Damon groans, Stefan's forehead gains yet another line, and Elena peers at them thoughtfully.

"I'll get my wallet…" Stefan says. He sounds like he knows this isn't a battle he wants to wage. I can't fault him for that—if arguing with Elena and Care when their drunk exhausts him, attempting to talk the blonde out of an excursion like this is twice as tiring.

"Damon—if you come, I won't shove a stink bug in your face."

He glowers at his cousin. "Wow, you make it sound so tempting."

"You and Bonnie deserve to have a little fun," Mehri insists. "And I won't get to see you until winter break after this week."

"What do I get out of this?"

"My approval…" she replies, though it sounds more like a question than a statement.

"Fine—I'll go, but I'm not going to like it."

"Fair enough."

While everyone gathers their belongings, Damon and I remain stationary. I lean into his side, bumping him with my shoulder. "Thank you—I would've been embarrassed about how much I missed you if you weren't with me."

"You're welcome, but you owe me for this." Damon pokes me in the side.

"Technically, I never asked you to tag along."

"Well, when Amelia asks you why you can't be as awesome as me, I want you to tell her about this."

I contemplate his terms, and I decide I'm okay with that, but I'm not going to allow him to completely upstage me when it comes to acts of kindness—the mere thought of that is sacrilegious.

"Okay, but then you need to tell her about how I returned the favor by making you pancakes for dinner afterward."

"Bon Bon, if I let you do that, I wouldn't live to tell the tale. Your pancakes are giant, hockey pucks of death."

"Fine—then you'll come to stay with me tonight. My parents have some kind of appointment in Richmond this evening—they won't be back until tomorrow afternoon."

"I can do that—if you keep your snoring to in check."

"I'll see what I can do."

"… though, I would rather listen to you snore than eat your cooking."

I glare at him. "Very funny."

"And that is another reason I'll be the cool parent."

"Whatever you say, Salvatore."

"I'll remember you said that—it'll come in handy later on."

"We will see about that."

"Oh, we will."

My heart skips a beat—the idea of our bantering extending far into the future brings me a joy that makes me think the hurdles we are about to run into will make it all worth it in the end.