Disclaimer: TVD isn't my property. And neither is the song.

Hey! So, I just want to let you know that I will have the next chapter of Come As You Are published in a day or so. I'm just ironing out a few details. With that said, enjoy reading this update! And thank you for the support for all my Bamon stories!


~Chapter Nine~


Well, if I could, you know I would
Let salvation reign on you
So, won't you push away
All this pain that you've been through

~Collective Soul, Sister Don't Cry~


I peer out the window, pushing the blinds down ever so slightly to get a better view. It's raining, drizzling, and the ground hasn't turned into a swimming pool yet, but I'm sure it's coming. The clouds are thick and heavy, just waiting for the right moment to open and drown us all.

I spot Elena walking down the sidewalk. I recognize the lavender-colored umbrella. Her eyes are covered by those sunglasses and every strand of hair on her head is concealed by one of Matt's Mystic Falls High caps—this one red.

I position myself a few feet away from the door, waiting for her imminent arrival. Still, something in me doesn't want to jump on her immediately. I don't want to seem like her dad, like every single one of our meetings is clandestine. I want to preserve some normalcy.

I lean against the banister, coffee mug in one hand as I watch the doorknob turn. Today is not as hot as the days prior, but the weatherman didn't even call the current forecast cool. And yet, I feel chilled. Not from the minuscule drop in temperature or the air conditioner my dad has cranked up to the highest setting.

I feel cold from the inside out.

I wrap my cardigan tighter around myself as Elena enters. She closes her umbrella and leaves it outside, along with her black rain boots. I want to ask her how she hasn't succumbed to heatstroke yet, but I bite my tongue. She doesn't look like she's in the mood for light joking.

"I'm happy to see you," I say softly. "I made you a cup of coffee just the way you like it—it's in the pink mug on the counter. You know, the one with our initials."

"Bon, you're a lifesaver."

Okay, she is in a better mood than I thought. A little pun won't hurt.

"And you're a Starburst," I say, and she rolls her eyes.

"You can stop being cheesy now, I'll be fine once I get my coffee. You put three dashes of cinnamon in it?"

"No more, no less."

I desperately want to ignore her, to be as cheesy as possible. This isn't going to be a pleasant get-together for either of us, but it's going to rattle her more than it will me.

She's gotten her subpoena. I'm not exactly sure when, though I wouldn't be surprised if it happened the second I stepped in the courtroom this morning, on my way to procure all the information the opposing side has collected thus far.

Now I must educate her on all things lawyer-speak. How to respond, when to cry, when to express outrage. She needs to be the perfect actress, the total embodiment of the small-town girl, embroiled in a terrifying mistake. She needs to be everything Jeremy is not.

I follow her into the kitchen. Take a seat at the table. Watch as she takes two long sips before she approaches me. The rain picks up, no longer just a sprinkle but a steady downfall.

"So, what comes first in Legalese 101?" she asks, angling her body to face mine.

"Courtroom etiquette. Similar protocol as before, but I recommend wearing navy clothes. It's a perception thing, black is a reminder of funerals and anything else will be too… bright."

"And the questions?" she asks cautiously.

I sigh. "Painful. I saw in the reports that Jer spent the night at your house—that he came over right after Anna was presumed to be murdered. They are going to grill you. Try to trick you, ask you confusing questions."

"Like what?"

I look away from her and take a deep breath. "What Jeremy is like, how he acted when you saw him that night. Things like that—at first. Then they'll ask what he told you about his relationship with Anna."

"I think I can handle that," she responds thoughtfully. "He seemed normal. And he didn't act out of the ordinary when he stopped by. Easy enough."

"Saltzman won't phrase it like that."

"What do you mean? How else can he ask?"

"Mrs. Donavan, what is your relationship to the defendant?"

"He's my younger brother," she answers, staring at me like I'm wasting time on trivial parts of the trial. Obviously, we both know all about the familial bond between them.

"Describe your relationship with him."

She sounds mildly exasperated when she launches into her explanation. "Good. We've gotten along ever since I moved out. We fought when we lived together. Normal sibling things. Nothing crazy or anything."

"And what did you two argue about?" I slowly slip into the tone I use as a prosecutor. The change in my voice is subtle. She can't even detect it.

"Stupid things—like spending too long in the bathroom."

"And that's it?"

"Yes," she furrows her eyebrows, mouth downturned into a frown.

"I see. That's good to hear. In my notes, it says that Mr. Gilbert partook in recreational drug use. What can you tell me about that?"

"Bonnie… that was a long time ago. He was fourteen, what does that have to do with this?"

"Mrs. Donavan, what do you know about the defendant's abuse of prescription painkillers?"

Elena begins wringing her hands. "They can bring that stuff up?"

I nod resolutely. "As long as the judge thinks it's relevant."

"But it's not."

"Except it is. When he was just a person of interest, the police came to talk to him. He was… out of it, according to their records… enough for them to demand a drug test."

"But they were talking to the entire class!" she exclaims. "He was at school, Bonnie!"

Elena is yelling now. At me. And I know she doesn't mean to direct all the blame my way, but it still stings a bit. I force myself to maintain eye contact with her as I respond. She doesn't make it easy, though. Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fist over her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs.

"I know that, Elena. I do, but you are going to have to answer him, and that's how Alaric's going to carry himself. You may be a witness for the prosecution, but he isn't on your side. I'm sorry… I should have been gentler. But you have to be ready to deal with the hard questions. Tell them he broke his arm, that it didn't set properly, that he was prescribed those pills, that he needs to be weaned off them slowly. I'll see what I can do about getting verification from the doctor."

"Okay, okay, that's simple. And… I'm sorry, too." She sniffles. "I'm just over-sensitive right now. Matt and I fought the night we had everyone over."

She makes it sound like a huge party, instead of her "safety net," a group of people she likes that won't condemn Jeremy. And me. I'm the outlier, loved by Elena like I am her flesh and blood.

"Oh, Lena, what did you argue about?"

She chuckles as she dabs her cheeks with tissue from the box in the middle of the table. I had been prepared for her waterworks. "It was… dumb… a stupid suggestion. You know how I get when I'm drunk."

I raise an eyebrow, coffee cup poised in front of my mouth. "Obnoxious, loud, and nosy."

"I'd prefer to use the term boisterous, but they work, too."

"So, what did you suggest?" I ask, knowing that I could go my entire life without knowing this information. But this is Elena. And I'm Bonnie. One of us talks, the other listens.

"A threesome…" she replies, covering her face with her hands.

"Okay, you've done that before. He declined, you claimed to not remember bringing it up the next day." I finish the lukewarm coffee in my cup.

"With Damon Salvatore."

And I nearly choke to death. Coffee comes out of my nose and Elena throws a handful of tissues at me.

"Elena!"

"I know… but I wasn't serious… and I only ever kissed Damon and that was years ago! We were kids!"

"Elena… Matt knows you had a crush on Stefan and Damon. With everything going on…" I shake my head. "That was ill-advised."

"I know," she groans. "I apologized and we had make-up sex, but he still seems distant."

"Give him some time…" I take one of her hands in mine. "It'll be okay."

"Thanks, Bon."

"Of course."

"And to be fair… I'm pretty sure every woman in town has thought about fucking Damon."

"I doubt that, and please don't tell him that. He's arrogant enough on his own."

"You know, you're probably the only one who never thought about him romantically. How'd you manage that?"

Well, I'm torn between feeling like a liar and the overwhelming need to vent, to let my best friend in on some of my deepest, darkest secrets. I lean back in my chair and think. She might understand… she must realize that she was so worried about Matt that my troubles fell by the wayside.

And she can't know how much I still hurt if I don't tell her.

"… Matt was telling me that you two seemed to be getting along well. I told him you two didn't see eye to eye in high school."

"We got along. The other night and in high school." I blurt out. The words are leaving my mouth before I can stop them. It feels like I'm a volcano that's been waiting for the right moment to erupt. And I can't stand the pressure any longer.

"Really? You never told me… you always said he was a jerk."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you." The rational part of my mind wonders why I'm asking for her forgiveness. I didn't do anything to hurt Elena.

"It's fine… I just didn't think you were friends."

Friends.

That word is a knife in my heart. I'm the one who drew that line in the sand, never thought that an actual relationship between us would be possible. Then I went and fucked everything else up.

Royally.

"So, he wasn't a jerk?"

"No, he was," I say, feeling the need to defend my excuse. "We just found out we had a few things in common, that's all."

"Oh, was that why he wanted to walk you home?"

"Yeah. Just reminiscing."

"About?"

"Elena… I don't think now is the time to discuss this."

"Why… it's not like you dated him or anything. What could you two have done that's such a big deal?"

I can't answer.

"Come on, Bon, you can tell me anything."

"Elena, we were drinking buddies, one time we ate pot brownies. Smoked a joint ever so often."

She laughs in disbelief. "You? No way!"

"Yes. We did, really."

"Where could you two have done that and gotten away with it?" It dawns on her, then. The answer a huge billboard right in front of her. "The cemetery!"

I roll my eyes.

"Wait… you had sex with Damon!" she proclaims this like it should be front-page news, plastered across the internet like a TMZ article.

"Oh my God! Bon, you should have told me! What was it like? Oh… wait, you two did date then… is that why you left like that, all of a sudden… if I had known…I would never have kissed him!"

I put my hand up to stop her rambling. "No, we never dated and no, that's not why I left." Both of those statements are close enough to the truth.

"So, it was just once?"

Fuck. I wish she'd stop interrogating me, I've spent enough time playing twenty questions with Enzo and Alaric. "No… it was a casual thing. We fucked when we wanted to, but it wasn't anything serious…" that's the party line, at least.

"Oh, wow."

"Yup. Just friends with benefits." Best friends with benefits a voice that sounds like Damon whispers in the back of my mind.

"How come you never told me?"

I gauge her expression. Her eyebrows are once again furrowed. Elena's been so dour-looking as of late that she almost doesn't look like herself. She sounds confused, mildly hurt, somewhat curious.

"You went on a date with his brother," I say lamely. "Then you and Matt… it wasn't that big a deal. It wasn't serious."

And you didn't want to share him, I chastise myself. Bonnie Bennett isn't selfish—usually.

"It was one date, Bon. We didn't proclaim our undying love for one another."

And yet, Stefan would still end up with his own little chapter in the story of her love life. As would Damon, but Elena likes to make things much bigger than they are, despite what she tells herself.

"That's irrelevant… Damon and I… we wouldn't have worked… okay? Can we change the subject, please?"

I don't like how close I sound to crying, the tinge of desperation in my voice. Elena has ripped off one of the scabs that took so long to heal. I feel stupid. Like I never should have elaborated. The reason I never told her hasn't changed. And it won't; so, we need to drop the matter. I can't focus on the trial if I'm sewing myself up again.

She puts a hand on my arm. "Bon…"

"Elena, we just need to prepare some more. July is right around the corner. I'm just on edge because I wasn't aware that Jeremy went to see you that night. Or that he was drug tested—he conveniently left those parts out. I just need to regroup, okay? I'm sorry I got… dramatic."

"That's understandable. You know how weird Jer can be."

I nod, cracking a tiny smile. I don't know if I'm glad she changed our topic of conversation or disappointed that my explanation was all it took to convince her I'm alright.