Disclaimer: I do not own TVD or the song lyrics.
Warning: There are some descriptions of violence in this chapter.


~Chapter Eight~


That's when she said
"I don't hate you, boy, I just want to save you
While there's still something left to save."
That's when I told her
"I love you, girl, but I'm not the answer
For the questions that you still have."

~Rise Against, Savior~


"I'm so tired of hearing about Elena's love life."

"Me, too. Unless she broke up with that moron, in which case, don't leave out any details."

I glare at Damon, who is smiling innocently. Like he is just trying to make small talk, but his motives are clear. He's got it bad for Elena Gilbert, my childhood best friend. We've been two peas in a pod from the day we met at the park. We were three. And we've been inseparable ever since.

Well… almost. The past year or so has been all about her boyfriend, Matt. And before Matt, Damon's younger brother, Stefan. Elena is a boy magnet; their eyes follow her wherever she goes. School, library, the Grille—we are constantly being watched. Though, I don't really think anyone notices me. Elena is the typical girl-next-door. Sweet, sociable, and beautiful. Her wide brown eyes give her a look of innocence, one that makes all the boys trip over themselves.

The only guy that pays me any mind is Damon. And at first, I thought he decided to play nice to get on Elena's good side, but I'm beginning to believe otherwise. When we ran into each other out here, we fought for the right to come to the field whenever we wanted, and when it became obvious that neither of us was going to back down, we begrudgingly began to share.

Now, it's a ritual. Bourbon, venting, jokes, honesty.

I take a gulp of Woodford Reserve, which is the brand Damon brought with him tonight. He usually likes to mix things up. We try a new kind every time it's his turn to bring the alcohol.

"Sorry," I shrug, relinquishing the bottle. "She's planning a three-month anniversary dinner for them tomorrow night." I stretch my legs out and lean into Damon's.

He sits atop a stubby log, drinking the bourbon like he's trying to sanitize his insides. I like this arrangement—how we are sitting. The warmth emanating from his body is comforting and I don't have to face him. Not that he's unpleasant to look at. On the contrary, he has the appearance of a male model with beguiling blue eyes that bore into my own green ones with unsettling intensity at times.

"You know, I don't get why girls think every month is a milestone… it's pointless." Another long sip.

I nudge his foot and put my hand up. "You're such a hog, Damon. You said you'd share more with me this time."

He laughs, placing the bottle in my hand before pulling it upward. He grunts when I elbow him forcefully on the calf. "Rude. If you were nice to me, I'd happily share. Anyway… you need to tell me why girls are so overly-sentimental."

"You have girls throwing themselves at you every day, how could you not know how to act around them? And, anyway, you're asking the wrong person. I don't get it any more than you do."

"Doing and comprehending are two different things, my little Bon Bon."

"Asshole," I grumble, sitting up straight. I turn around to get a look at him. The amount of arrogance in his expression is astounding. "You've been in more relationships than Hugh Hefner!"

"Those are more like one-night stands," he fires back, as if that's an acceptable counter-defense. "I don't get attached."

"You're a cad," I take a swig and pass it back to him. He repeats my action twice. "And you're lying, you're not looking me in the eyes."

"I'm not… well, not anymore. After things didn't work out with Rose, I thought it be easier not to trust anyone like that again, but Elena…"

"Is different why?"

"She isn't judgmental—Judgy." He pokes my cheek playfully, so I don't take offense. I wouldn't have regardless. I can tell when he's deliberately being an ass and that's not the case right now. "I don't know, she and Stefan went out and I made fun of them and she just smiled… like what I said didn't bug her. And before she left, Dad and I had gotten into it again and she asked if I was alright. She is genuine."

"She is," I agree, voice quiet. "She loves hard, but… she's just… intense. Very emotional."

"So, you've said."

"Seriously—she makes me think twice about the institution of love, it seems like a bunch of unneeded stress."

"You want to be a nun or a cat lady?" Damon asks, getting off the log and sitting in the grass next to me. "Sweet, virginal, Bonnie Bennett. You're too good for this world." He sounds wistful now, light, and I know he's being serious.

"No, that's not true… I just… I want to do more, I want to be more than just the sweet girl from a small town, I want to help people somehow… I just don't know how I plan on doing it yet. That doesn't mean I don't have needs. I just don't want a distraction. I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression. Guys around here think sex and love are the same. Or that's how they think girls feel. It's just… uncomfortable. Besides, even if I did want that—the romance bullshit—I don't exactly have any suitors. I'm no Elena Gilbert or Caroline Forbes."

"You're fucking crazy!"

I reel back angrily. "Excuse me, Captain Fuckwad, you said the same thing as I did—"

"No, I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about you." He sets the bottle against the log and places his hands on my cheeks. "Have you ever looked in the mirror, Bonnie?"

"I—"

"You're beautiful. And anyone who thinks otherwise is a fucking idiot."

"Wow, Damon. That's actually… I'm speechless."

"Oh, finally. Maybe now you'll shut up and stop scolding me over every little thing. It's not like you won't end up joining in."

"I don't care if you want to skip school next week. I just have to study for mid-terms. You should, too. I know you have test anxiety."

"Buzzkill Bennett, at it again."

"I'm not a buzzkill!" I protest, voice rising an octave or two.

"You are sometimes."

"I'm just trying to get into Yale, Damon. The only time I have to chill out is here with you and I look forward to it. If I get behind on schoolwork, we won't be able to hang out like this."

"That would suck," he admits, looking of into the distance. I can just make out the outline of a row of headstones. The moon is shining brightly and it's the only source of light this time of night.

We should really bring flashlights with us.

"Yeah… and then I won't have as many stories about the numerous kind things you do for me. Whatever will I put in my diary?" I laugh as he turns back to me, a look of mild surprise on his face.

"You have a diary?"

"No, Elena does though, she's more in touch with her emotions than I am."

"You just told me something personal," he points out. "Does that make me your diary?"

"Only if you want to be." I say, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, Bon Bon, I'm honored," he places his hand over his heart. "I'll keep all your dirty little secrets."

"That's… creepy."

"I resent that comment."

"Fine, I'm sorry… that you're so creepy."

Damon tackles me and I fall to the side, laughing hysterically. "Recant your statement, Bennett," he says, voice good-humored and jovial. "Or you'll regret it."

"You… look so scary… when you smile," I reply in between guffaws.

A moment later, I can't do anything but giggle as he tickles me, I try to kick him away, but he is too strong. The only way I'll escape is by admitting defeat. "Okay, Salvatore," the tickling stops. "I take it back."

He lets me go, rolling over and staring straight up at the sky. I take a deep breath and try to calm down.

"I knew you'd see it my way," he says, taking my hand in his.

"Whatever, you had to torture me to get what you wanted."

"I was trying to show you what a reliable friend I could be, and you made fun of me. I'm hurt." Sarcasm.

"Okay then, I'll make that my first entry. Dear diary, today Damon told me I was pretty. I swooned. He's just so hot! And then… he said I made him sad. He cried like a baby. How ever will I make it up to him?"

"You could come on a road trip with me," he suggests, batting his eyelashes in that annoyingly cute way of his. "On Sunday night… into Monday."

"Okay, on one condition. You have to study with me on the way to wherever it is we're going… which is where?"

He shrugs, propping himself up. "I don't know yet, but it will be better than listening to Tanner being an ass for an hour and a half."

"You have a point."


I can't pry my eyes away from the crime scene photographs.

I thought I was prepared, as I had already seen some of them in Jeremy's interrogation. But there's more and they are far more gruesome than what was shown to us.

I've seen plenty of crime scene pictures. A few murders had even been grislier than the ones I'm currently going over, but the fact that people think Jeremy did this makes my blood run cold. The few photos I'm looking at for the first time include a head wound that is located just above the back of her skull. It hadn't been visible in the close-up of her lifeless face. She had been smacked so hard that brain matter covered the blades of grass underneath.

The autopsy findings say that there were two separate cranial injuries. The one I see was to ensure she never got the chance to run away. The other, a picture taken at the morgue, showed the second. It is a small knot. If I had to guess, I'd say that one was just to incapacitate her.

Her official cause of death is a bit murky. The ME couldn't determine with certainty that it had been either blunt force trauma or the stab wounds. Most likely, it had been a combination of both.

And the sodomy via tree branch had occurred prior to her death.

I finally shut that particular file and put my hands over my face.

This day is excruciating already, and it is only ten-thirty. I groan, reaching for my cup of coffee. I got it from the tiny shop just down the street from the courthouse. I should have gotten five cups. Or maybe I should have skipped the caffeine entirely, as I feel jittery, and I would like to attribute that to my giant travel cup of espresso.

Alaric has a very interesting list of witnesses. Kai, the jackass Jeremy had been texting the morning Anna was found, Marla, Anna's best friend, Pearl Zhu, the medical examiner, Detective St. John, and Elena Donavan.

Every name is printed on the paper for a reason, and I'm only really concerned about one.

Elena's.

And unfortunately, she's probably going to have to testify. I can't imagine Alaric being willing to let her refuse. She will be subpoenaed. And depending on her answers and temperament, I will have to go in for the kill during cross-examination. With any luck, I'll be able to talk her through every little step, but Elena's been such a basket case about the ordeal, that I really don't know how she'll hold up during the trial. When I told Damon that my pseudo-sister was emotional, I meant it. I've never met anyone that could be so indecisive in my life. On top of that, one who acts like there was no hard choice to make when a selection is locked in.

That trait won't get her anywhere in this situation, what she says will have consequences. They could be good or bad—but if she makes a mistake, she won't be able to get herself out of it.

This isn't the game of musical boyfriends she played in high school.

For a moment, I feel a rush of calm. I had learned how to deal with heart-wrenching situations years ago and while a few of them still eat me up inside, while I have bouts of fleeting regret, I can handle these hardships by myself. Elena, as awful as it makes me feel for thinking it, never really had to. Sure, her life hasn't been all wonderful, but she doesn't feel regret and so she doesn't really understand or empathize with those that have.

Now this realization will ruin her.

This fucking blows.

Obviously, Jeremy will not be going on the stand. Any sorrow felt for him will evaporate the second he opens his mouth. I don't see him getting rid of his laid-back attitude anytime soon. So, I'll just have to garner sympathy for him through his elder sister. If she proves to be incapable of being even keeled while on the stand, maybe I can use her tears to my advantage.

I feel awful. I only want to protect her. And never have I considered the idea that exploiting her pain would be the way to do it. I bite my bottom lip, deep in thought. I can't stand the way my gut twists as I think of her, sobbing in a courtroom, begging for leniency for her kid brother.

So, while that will have to be a last resort, I need to keep the mean tactic in mind. But I feel the only way for me to sleep soundly at night, would be if I didn't manipulate Elena. And that will take a lot of time, effort, and energy. She can't even watch Law and Order re-runs, has never really asked me for any details about my job. I'm surprised that she kept a straight face until she made it back to the car when Jer was released.

I know I need to read the police reports. My hand hovers over the folder labeled Law Enforcement Paperwork, shaking as I open it and begin leafing through paper after paper. My eyes skim over a few important passages, but after five minutes I put the photographs in the file face down and toss all of it into my open briefcase.

I slam it shut.

I already have a plan of attack; it relies mainly on the police officer and ME's testimony. I just have to get them to admit that there is a small possibility that they're too focused on Jeremy, that all those details he gave me could be true. Then I just have to create a solid narrative from there. All I need is doubt.

And I have had plenty of doubts in my life. They tend to screw up the best laid plans.

Who wants to sentence a child to death if they aren't positive he committed the crime he's being accused of? He's a child. The only thing he's guilty of is having unprotected sex with his girlfriend and saying some rude things about her to his buddy. That's gross, inappropriate, and appalling, but it's not against the law.

I would like to have my own star witness, but it looks like the prosecution has already gotten ahold of the key players. Cross-examination is going to be my strongest approach. I'm going to have to discount most of what is told to the jury. I haven't even begun to go over the finer details from the investigation yet and I'm already emotionally drained.

I fire up my laptop.

Time to sift through months upon months of social media posts. I'm going to use the information Jeremy and his peers made public and line those up with the private messages I've been provided, as well as the personal account Jer gave me. I need to construct a clear picture of my client and the inner workings of his personal life.

It's an invasion of privacy and I don't like having to do it. I shudder to think about what I would have done if Elena went through my things in order to find out my secrets. For the first time ever, I'm glad Damon had been my "diary." Not once has he used my private information to gain leverage with Elena. If he did, I would be bombarded with a myriad of inquires from her.

Sometimes, thoughts like this make me wonder if things could have gone differently. Perhaps I acted too rashly—maybe I didn't have to cut ties with him as I did. This isn't a road I like to go down very often, as so many things might be different if I handled myself more pragmatically.

And then I'm forced to acknowledge that the other ship sailed a long time ago and unlike Elena, my consequences are always with me, a bleak reminder of what might have happened.

That's good, though. I remind myself quickly, trying to hold onto my soothing feeling of acceptance. I can get through anything and can save Jeremy and Elena.

It's with those convictions in mind, I begin typing Jeremy Gilbert into Facebook's search bar.