.

Chapter 16

a cat in gloves

This was love: a string of coincidences
that gathered significance and became miracles.
―Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Bonnie's dress was still stiff with dried seawater. The fire had melted the icicles in her hair and the chill in her joints exceptionally well, but the dress was going to be a lost cause. Bonnie could feel the salt itching at her skin. She shifted, trying to alleviate the irritation, and to snuggle further into the warmth that surrounded her.

Even with her sleep-addled mind, Bonnie registered that the warmth under her cheek was breathing. She was resting her entire weight on Damon. This, while comfortable for her, was probably not ideal for the vampire. Grumbling at herself and the bright sun, she began to shift off of him. She moved carefully, not wanting to wake Damon up, or to rock the raft dangerously.

But her hand didn't meet the hard wood at the bottom of the boat, but instead the easy give of a mattress. Bonnie blinked the sleep from her eyes. The light that woke her was not the stark morning sunrise glinting off the Atlantic, but the warm glow of a bedroom bathed in the afternoon sun.

She pushed herself up, holding her balance with her hands on either side of Damon's head. And it was Damon, her sleepy awareness hadn't lied about that at least. But how was he here? Had they been touching when the stone activated? Had she inadvertently pulled Damon through time in her sleep? Bonnie's panic was forestalled by Damon's arms tightening around her, pulling her down. Her palms slipped on the smooth sheets, and she collapsed back against his chest.

"Ouch!"

"Mmm. It's not time to get up yet, Bonnie. Not when you decided to wake me up at six in the morning just as I'd gotten to sleep," He shifted, pushing himself further into his feather pillows. He still hadn't opened his eyes. "And you were cold too, I don't think my shins will ever recover from your icy toes."

Bonnie's concerns had been unnecessary and, she could admit to herself, a bit ridiculous. Damon was wearing a silk black pajama set that seemed both completely incongruous and wholly consistent with his character. But it was absolutely not the sea-soaked tuxedo he's been wearing on their lifeboat.

"Damon, let me up. I've got to get out of this dress." It itches." Her whining did the trick. He unwrapped his arms, allowing her to put some space between them again. But his hands found her hips, holding her in place, not letting her roll off of him. Bonnie tried to ignore that she was now straddling him, and the fact that her dress had ridden up to a scandalous height, even for the 21st century, in her sleep.

"You don't have to get out of bed to take off your clothes, Bonnie." He said, a leer on his face even with his closed eyes.

She punched his chest in retaliation, though it probably hurt her more than him.

"Ugh, Damon! Don't be gross." He laughed and let her go, pushing his hands underneath the pillow under his head and finally blinking his eyes open. Bonnie absolutely did not stare at them. Instead, she rolled away and climbed off the bed, thankful that she didn't have to face him as she willed the sudden heat in her cheeks to dissipate.

Bonnie struggled for a moment with the buttons at her back. The dress seemed much harder to maneuver now than it had been when she first put it on. Damon's hands caught her own, pushing them away from the long line of fastenings down her back. She curled her fingers into her skirt by her thighs, trying to push away whatever feeling this was. Bonnie hadn't even heard him move out of the bed, but the instant he'd stood behind her she'd been aware of him. His fingers barely brushed her back as he undid each hook. Bonnie focused on keeping her breathing steady. She was not awake enough for this.

"Might as well finish the job, I had to take off your shoes just to get some peace this morning." His snark was easy to deal with. She knew their banter like the back of her hand, and could navigate it easily.

"You willingly exposed yourself to my toes, and then you complain about them?" She said.

"Believe me, your cold toes were better than those heels. They were sharp and you kick."

Bonnie felt a bit contrite. He had let her sleep in her bed, ocean-smelling dress, intrusive toes, and all.

"Thank you, Damon, for letting me stay here."

"Letting you? Even unconscious you're an insistent one. There was no denying you."

Bonnie didn't bother arguing his kindness further. He'd finished unfastening the back of her dress, and completely undone the corset beneath it without prompting. She kept the two garments pressed to her chest, and internally thanked Stefan again for the slip he'd stolen for her. That last barrier, however thin, between Damon's fingers and her bare skin was the only thing keeping her upright.

"I've got a couple of things you can wear for now, but if I'm taking you out, we're going to have to hit the shops. We can't have you going out like this. You look like someone's drowned grandmother."

"And who said you were taking me out?"

"Don't be dull, Bonnie. I haven't seen you in thirty years, we're going out." He strode across the room, pulling a gray and shapeless dress from a drawer and threw it at her.

"Thirty years?" Damon stayed facing away from her, even as she questioned him. Bonnie let the dress pool at her feet, and stripped off the chemise, loosened corset, and stockings directly after. She slipped Damon's dress over her head and tried not to make a noise of displeasure. It really wasn't her style.

"Yup," He smacked his lips. "Thirty-one long lonely years without you Bonnie; you can't deny me now."

"Thirty years. That's the longest so far, I think. So, it's what? 1940?"

"November 28, 1942. But more importantly, it's a Saturday night and we're going dancing!"

Bonnie laughed at his sudden exuberance.

"Okay, I'll bite. Let's go dancing."

"Biting and dancing? Bonnie, you can't do this to me. And remember, shopping first!"

Bonnie allowed herself to be pulled out the door of his apartment and marveled at the teeming street they exited out onto. Damon's grin, somehow menacing and attractive at the same time, was contagious.

"That's it, Bonnie, we're young and in—" He stuttered, "in your hometown. Live a little!"

"My hometown? What are you talking about?" This was definitely not Mystic Falls. Nothing Bonnie had done in the past could change the sleepy Virginia town into this small metropolis.

Suddenly the space between them had disappeared. Damon loomed over her, and Bonnie couldn't tear her eyes away from his. Her blood pooled in her cheeks again. Why couldn't she control that? Shouldn't she be used to his attention by now? His eyes darted over her, from her eyes, to her lips, to her ruddy face. Bonnie's whole body, her very magic, seemed tuned into Damon. Her memory swam with the taste of his kisses and the feel of the lingering shadow her magic always revealed when they touched. No, she was not going to get used to the attention anytime soon.

"Look around, don't you recognize it? We're in Boston. Unless," he paused, "don't tell me you were lying about Boston too, Bonnie? That would just be too much."

She swallowed. They were stopped in the middle of the street and drawing a few looks.

"Weren't you bringing me somewhere? I need to get out of this ugly dress, people are staring." Damon's lips quirked, like he was going to press the point, before he simply shrugged and turned away.

"Come on, I know just the place."

"What do you think of this dress, ma'am?"

"Oh, no, you have to try on this one. It will bring out your eyes magnificently!"

"And with these shoes—"

"No, those won't go at all Kitty!"

Damon smirked at Bonnie from where he leaned against the wall. He'd been amused since they entered the shop and Bonnie had found herself surrounded by salesgirls. Damon had been the one to start laying money down, but it had been clear that Bonnie was the one they needed to makeover.

Bonnie felt like she was in a scene straight out of Pretty Woman, which she and Caroline had watched alone after Mrs. Gilbert banned it due to inappropriate themes.

"And you should do your hair like this. Here, take a look." The attendant held a mirror to the left of Bonnie and she swiveled to see the proposed updo. She was distracted by the other women surrounding her, each holding a dress or accessory, excepting the one salesgirl holding her hair in place.

"I can't decide! There are so many choices, and I really have no idea what is in right now. I just…" Bonnie trailed off a bit overwhelmed. This shop was way more intense than Macy's at the local mall.

"She'll take that, that, that, and…this." Damon's choices seemed arbitrary, random, and Bonnie pursed her lips at his careless presumption. "Unless you object?" He turned to Bonnie, but the witch was assessing his choices.

"Isn't that a bit much? A bit dramatic?"

"Oh, ma'am. This is the latest fashion up from New York. It's totally vamp, and just perfect for you!" Damon grinned at the salesgirl's encouragements.

"Yeah Bonnie, the vamp look is just perfect for you." Bonnie rolled her eyes, but took the black dress held out in front of her. It was long and silky but had heavily structured shoulders. It definitely lived up to the term vamp.

"Don't forget the shoes!" Bonnie snatched the offending heels from his hands as she marched back into the dressing room.

"So, what are you up to lately Damon? Have you seen Stefan recently?"

"No, the last time I saw him was basically the last time I saw you. He's down south, at least last I heard."

"You haven't seen him in that long? Why?"

"Well we don't exactly enjoy each other's company, even when he's not on a blood binge, and I thought I'd give him a short break from the eternity of misery I promised him."

"Don't you think that whole eternity of misery thing is a bit much? Afterall, you know Katherine is alive, and it wasn't his fault that she was sleeping with both of you."

"What is this? Are you my head-shrinker now? You going to tell me I need to make up with my brother to lead a fulfilled life?"

"Damon, he's literally your only peer. Who else is going to understand your weird jokes about rationing during the Civil War?"

"Well one, Bonnie, rationing jokes are in again. America's at war, and this time it isn't so touchy a subject because it's not with itself. And two, I don't need Stefan for that, I have you."

"Damon, we've seen each other four times, including today, since you turned. That's not exactly a steady friendship."

"Who needs steady? And five, Bonnie. Don't forget the time I saw you dive out a window. And that puts you at an advantage over Stefan. Five positive interactions over eighty years? He's netted exactly zero."

"You count be jumping out a window as a positive interaction?"

"I caught you!" Well, that was more positive than the alternative.

"Whatever, the point is that you and Stefan have absolutely no reason to be fighting. You're brothers. You need each other."

"For what?"

"I don't know! I don't actually have siblings, you know. But he's the one person who can actually understand your past, as he has basically the same one. Don't you think it's time to put your fight with each other aside? For your own sakes? And who knows, you might find yourself on the same side in the future, a little camaraderie now might go a long way later."

"So you're saying I should take a page out of the country's book? Stop fighting with my brother so we can go fight someone else?"

"Not exactly what I was getting at, but sure."

"Alright Bonnie, I've been thinking about moving south anyway, New Orleans is apparently some kind of vampire paradise. I'll give Stefan a call and try to make up again, for you. Didn't work out too well last time, but what the hell. Maybe we'll go fight some Nazi scum. I promise I'll be thinking of you."

"I'm sure. But I'm glad you've changed your mind about Stefan. If you just gave each other a chance you could be brothers again."

"Bonnie, I already agreed, no need to get mushy. Now, get out here, we're all waiting with bated breath for the reveal."

Bonnie winced. She'd forgotten about the store staff. She hoped that none of them had heard the odder parts of their conversation. She didn't want to end this shopping trip with a round of compulsions. Bonnie drew in a breath and opened the curtain, prepared for comments from the peanut gallery. Only Damon was waiting on the other side.

His eyes ran up and down her body slowly, scorching her skin along the lines of the dress.

"This was definitely the right choice." When was the last time someone had looked at her like that? George hadn't even come close, and Ben, well Ben was a reminder why she shouldn't accept those looks at face value.

"Yeah, yeah, pat yourself on the back for picking a good dress. Are we going stay here the whole night? I thought we were going out?"

"We could just go back to mine, Bonnie. I wouldn't complain."

"No wriggling out of it now; you promised me dancing. Come on, let's paint the town red." She wheedled. Damon raised an eyebrow at her words, and Bonnie defended herself. "It's an expression! It has nothing to do with blood, get your mind out of the gutter."

"Not that gutter, Bonnie. I am definitely not thinking about blood right now." He paused, and Bonnie felt her blush rising again. "Or, I wasn't." Bonnie's face heated further. She'd always been grateful that her dark skin hid her flushes of embarrassment and infatuation, but his senses were stronger than the average human's, and his sense of blood was the strongest of all.

"Let's just go." She pushed past him to the door, stopping only momentarily to thank the women who'd assisted her. One thrust a matching purse into her hand, and Bonnie stowed her few valuables within. The saleswomen were happy to see her go, and happier still to count the cash that Damon laid down for the dress and their help.

"Do you always carry that much money on you?" Bonnie asked when they were a block away from the shop. He hadn't stopped her when she'd stomped her way down the street, just loped along easily to keep pace with her. She looped an arm through his, putting aside the tangled knot that developed in her stomach whenever they touched, or Damon got that look in his eye, or Bonnie thought about their shared kisses.

"Since that night on the Atlantic, yes. I'd grown too reliant on my powers; I'd forgotten I had any limits. And then, in a situation I really needed them, they failed me. But cash? Charles proved it was an effective motivator even in the most desperate times. I still prefer compulsion, of course, but sometimes the normal human way works too."

"I wouldn't call bribery the normal human way exactly." Bonnie said, but he waved away her rebuttal.

"It would have been normal for me. Human Salvatores were bribing people left and right when I was born, and I'm sure they still will be when I finally die."

"And you would have continued this proud tradition yourself?"

"Definitely. Can't you picture me? A grey-haired but still handsome patriarch, presiding over his flock of unruly children, and paying off every schoolmaster and society matron they've crossed."

"Still handsome?"

"You can't doubt that Bonnie!" He let go of her arm and smoothed a hand through his hair before dramatically striking a pose. Bonnie had to laugh.

"I just find it funny that you had to include it in your hypothetical scenario."

"I was painting a complete picture for you! Don't you think a little salt and pepper would suit me? I think I'd be rather dashing."

"Only a vampire would romanticize greying hair."

"Bonnie! You're exposing your true feelings. You only like me because I'm young and beautiful to look at. What if I'd never turned?" He counted on his fingers for a moment. "I'd be one hundred and three this year. Would you still love me even with withered skin and brittle bones?"

"Your liver would have given up long before a hundred, Damon, but I'd have been sure to shed a few tears over your grave."

His lips curled at the corners, no longer an overdramatic smile, but a real one.

"Well, at least I can count on you for that. Not too many tears mind you. I'd rather you crack a bottle open. Take a few sips yourself and pour one out for me."

"Just the one?"

"I don't want my cemetery neighbors to think I'm a lush on my first day, Bonnie." She laughed again, and he entwined their fingers, pulling her forward. "But that hardly matters. You won't be attending my funeral any time soon, and besides, we're here!"

Here was a brick building in a row of brick buildings. The structure itself was nothing special, but light poured out of the doorway, and Bonnie could hear the loud brass band music from their position across the street. A line stretched down the block to get in, and no one was coming out.

"Now this," Damon said, winking at Bonnie, "is something compulsion is still good for." He led her past the line and straight to the bouncer.

"We are important guests, and you will let us in."

"You are important guests, please go on in." The bouncer responded mindlessly. The hair at the back of Bonnie's neck bristled.

"I still don't like that. They become so lifeless."

"Well, I can't do it to you, so you have nothing to worry about."

"I happen to care about people outside myself, Damon." His lips quirked in the face of her mulishness.

He'd steered her into a smoky room. Tables dotted the edges, and a band played for the crowd of dancers. Many of the men were in uniform, but Damon's oddly cut suit matched those who weren't.

Bonnie saw his mouth moving, but the band and the people, shouting and dancing and laughing, overwhelmed her ears. She couldn't hear what Damon was saying to her.

"What?" She yelled back at him, forgetting that his vampire hearing could cut through the din. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear as he spoke.

"I said, let's dance." He tugged her arm and swung her onto the dancefloor.

This dance was nothing like the staid waltz at the Founder's Celebration. That night, she'd held herself straight with tension, keenly aware of where her body's was situated compared to his. Every point of contact between them had seared Bonnie's skin, and she'd felt the weight of the stares of Mystic Fall's high society from around the room. Their conversation had eased her mind somewhat, but not completely. She'd enjoyed the dance, more than she should have, and she'd stayed up half the night processing the emotions it brought out in her. But it hadn't been easy.

But here, in Boston and in Damon's arms again, this was simply fun. He spun her in, out, and slid across the floor behind her. Bonnie was actually shocked at how good his moves were. White boys in the past put way more effort into learning dances apparently. She couldn't imagine Matt twisting like the men on the floor around her. She twirled and twisted, frantically kicking as she tried to keep up with the moves of the crowd and her partner. Maybe her enjoyment was helped by the lack of alcohol rationing that had so plagued Damon in 1864, but Bonnie didn't think so. Just moving, losing herself in the music and the people, allowed her to throw a weight off her shoulders. Endorphins rushed through her and she laughed aloud, grinning up at Damon.

"This is great!" Bonnie spun, trying to follow the music and failing. When the third song ended, Damon smiled and leaned in.

"You want another drink?" Bonnie nodded.

"Water! I'm thirsty!" She collapsed into a booth at the side of the dancefloor, resting her head on the cool tabletop for a moment while she waited for Damon to return. She didn't want to contemplate what she looked like right now. Her dress had felt airy and thin on the walk to the club, but after a bit of dancing the silk was sticking to her like a second skin. Bonnie was sure her hair had completely lost whatever pins they'd crafted her hairstyle out of back at the shop. Still, it hardly mattered. The only person who knew her here was Damon, and he'd already seen her look like a half-drowned rat.

"Your beverage, little witch." Bonnie gulped down half of the tall glass of water before resting it against the side of her face. It was much cooler than the tabletop. Damon smirked at her over his own glass of bourbon.

"Feeling the heat?" She could just make out his words, and she could tell he was practically shouting them for her benefit. She ignored him, taking smaller sips from her glass. Just because he didn't have to sweat off the exertion didn't mean he could tease her for it.

Damon lit a cigarette and Bonnie grimaced. He held out his metal cigarette case to her, offering her one, as he pulled in a long drag. She shook her head, shooing the case away from her.

"No, just the smell of the smoke makes me sick." Damon snapped the case shut and flicked his own cigarette out of his hands. He made an aborted motion to wave the smoke away from their table before he seemed to realize how thick the smoke was on this side of the room. The tables were filling as the dancefloor lulled, and everyone had a cigarette in hand.

"You want to get out of here?" She chugged the rest of her water and took his hand. They escaped out a side door that had definitely been locked before Damon broke the knob.

Her ears rang with the sudden comparative silence of the empty road.

Damon jogged ahead of her before performing a short shuffle move in the street. Bonnie sputtered in disbelief.

"How many bourbons did you have when I wasn't looking?"

"None! Just drunk on life, Bon Bon!" He exclaimed.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, so maybe a few at the bar. But, I'm barely feeling it. Vampire metabolism, remember?" He waited for her to catch up and fell into step beside her. He knocked his shoulder against hers once.

"So, Bonnie, tell me about you."

"What about me?"

"Whatever you want, favorite color, favorite city, your first crush, the name of your childhood teddy bear."

"Why?" He narrowed his eyes at her lack of answers.

"Because I want to know you. We've spent a lot of time together, but most of it was in my home and with my family. I'm at a disadvantage."

"Not much of one, I never met your teddy bear."

"Never had one, not a thing in my day. Stop dodging, Bonnie, hit me with some info."

"My favorite color is purple, I had a teddy bear named Ms. Cuddles when I was a kid, and I don't think I've travelled enough to pick a favorite city. I've never even left the country. One night on a boat in the middle of the ocean doesn't count." She rattled off her answers, shifting uncomfortably under his intent gaze.

"Don't think I didn't notice the question you skipped Bonnie, but I'll let you off the hook. For now."

"How generous of you."

"That's me, the pinnacle of goodness. Now what else should I ask you? Favorite book?"

"Nothing that's been written yet."

"Good literature in the future then? That hardly helps me now. What's your favorite book from before 1942?"

"Call of the Wild." Bonnie said with a smirk.

"That London book about dogs? Can't say I've been tempted to read it."

"You'll like it, I promise." Bonnie had never actually read the book, but she had it on his own authority that it was his favorite.

"Well, with your endorsement, how could I not?" Bonnie smiled, more to herself then at Damon. The streets were empty, and despite the sounds of honking and sirens in the distance, it felt like her and Damon has the whole city to themselves.

"Let's dance." She said, breaking the peaceful silence. Damon stopped short and looked confused.

"Do you want to go back to the Cocoanut Grove? Or find another club?" The witch shook her head at his words.

"No, I mean here, right now."

Damon looked like he wanted to question her more, but instead he just nodded. He stepped off the sidewalk and into the street.

"May I have this dance?" He extended his hand to Bonnie.

Bonnie took his hand with a smile and walked into his arms. The streetlights created pools of light on the dark asphalt, and Damon led them in a wild spinning pattern, in and out of the bright pockets. Bonnie's laughs bounced off the walls and echoed down the street.

Eventually, they slowed and swayed together, closer than they had danced in Mystic Falls. Damon hummed a familiar waltz. Bonnie rested her head on his chest, just breathing in the night air and the smell of his cologne.

"When am I going to see you again, Bonnie?"

Bonnie's breath caught in her throat. She had felt the words rumble through his chest, felt his breath on her hair as he'd spoken. She's heard the desperate plea in the question. His human life was defined by his mother's death, and his vampire one by Katherine's absence.

In a fit of clarity, Bonnie realized that she wanted to make him forget about everyone who'd left him, who'd broken a promise, who'd raised a hand in cruelty against him. She wanted to protect him and be protected in turn. Bonnie knew it was wrong, it wasn't healthy for her, or for him, but she wanted to stay.

She pulled away.

"I don't know." A siren wailed by, and then another. Damon's eyes didn't leave her face, but Bonnie couldn't speak, couldn't hear, with the noise. Another siren, just one street over from them. Another.

"What's going on?" Bonnie asked, in the second between one siren and the next. Damon closed his eyes, and Bonnie waited for him to tell her what he was hearing.

"There's a fire. It's on Piedmont Street. That's a few blocks away from us now." He stopped speaking. Another siren, a fire truck probably, sped by. Damon opened his eyes. "It's the Cocoanut Grove."

"The Cocoanut Grove? The club we just left?" She asked. Damon nodded and frowned.

"It's bad. The whole place has gone up, and they can't get out most of the doors."

Bonnie gasped, thinking of the hundreds of people who had surrounded them, the five-customer-deep crowd around the bar, the hallways lined with fake and flammable palm trees.

"Bonnie? Are you okay?"

Bonnie shook her head.

"No, I'm not. Every time I arrive, I try to forget the awful things I have just seen, just experienced. And I see you and I do forget for a while, but then something else comes again. Everywhere I go people die! Maybe I'm the one causing it."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. How could you have caused this?"

"The cigarette! You flicked it away because I said I didn't like the smell. You didn't put it out first, it was lit, that probably started the fire!" Bonnie's voice got louder and louder and higher and higher. Damon put his hands on her shoulders.

"Bonnie! Bonnie! Look at me!" Bonnie's eyes focused on his and she stopped talking. "Even if that cigarette started the fire, which we have no idea if it did, that isn't on you. You said it; I was the one who flicked it away without putting it out."

"But I—"

"Yes, I did it because you said you didn't like the smell. But Bonnie? It was still me. You can't take on guilt for something that someone else does, even if it was for you. Okay?" Bonnie nodded.

"Okay. Now, about this bigger idea that you're somehow causing all of the tragedies you've witnessed. That's wrong. Nothing you did caused the Titanic, or the massacre near Deadwood, and I know you weren't the one who shot the President. You being there doesn't mean you caused them."

"I could have stopped them."

"No, I'm pretty sure you couldn't have. You're not all-powerful or all-knowing Bonnie. You can't expect yourself to be able to save everybody all the time. You'll lose yourself." Bonnie shook her head in denial. Damon held her head, wiping away tears she didn't even know she'd been crying with his thumbs.

"Bonnie, listen to me. You are not causing this. You've done everything you could to save people. Because you, Bonnie McCullough, are good." The sound of her fake name from his lips did more to shock her out of her daze than anything else.

"That's not my name."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter. You're right. I've always tried, and I shouldn't let self-pity get in the way of that this time. Let's go back to the club and see what we can do."

Bonnie didn't say another word on the walk back to the Cocoanut Grove. She'd arrived to tragedies every time, with no idea why or how, and she hadn't questioned it. Instead she'd let herself be distracted over and over again by Damon's face and charm and the warm feeling she got when he smiled.

She'd been stupid. Who did she think she was? This man wasn't for her, now or ever. He'd been in love with Katherine since she'd met him, and even in the future, after he learned of her betrayal, he'd hadn't turned to Bonnie. They weren't friends. He didn't even look at Bonnie in the future; if he didn't want something from her he avoided her. And from her distance she'd seen what was in his eyes when he looked at Elena. What was missing when he looked at her.

The few times Bonnie had allowed herself to think of her return, to consider what her life would be like, she'd somehow forgotten that their animosity wasn't one-sided. Damon was rude and cruel and yes, possibly in love with her best friend. She'd nearly killed him, and he'd nearly killed her, and she'd saved his life once, begrudgingly. She didn't know what had changed, but she couldn't take that from him. She'd been so disturbed by compulsion, but was she any better? Meddling in a person's past so deeply wasn't right. She was re-writing Damon's history, changing his memories, changing him. So that he would be friendlier to her in the future? So he would continue to look at her in a way that made her feel warm and safe and seen? Bonnie felt sick. This had to stop.

Damon stopped her before she entered the alley that connected their street to Piermont.

"Come on, let's check it out from the roof first." He leapt for the fire escape and pulled down the retractable ladder. He lifted her the last few feet to the bottom rung, allowing Bonnie to start climbing. The building was across the street from the club, and its roof offered an unimpeded view of the blaze at the Cocoanut Grove. Firetrucks stood outside, and water poured from their hoses as ambulances arrived and quickly sped away, loaded with victims of the inferno.

There were hundreds of people in the street, screaming and crying and still burning. Bonnie focused on the flames. Just before she'd left the 21st century she had controlled the flames of the council-lit fire at Dr. Gilbert's old practice. She'd hung onto Elena's arm, not just to hold her friend back, but also to anchor herself. From her talk with Emily, Bonnie now knew that she had been drawing from Elena as part of her coven, using her to focus her emotions and energy.

This fire was much bigger, and much hotter.

"I need your help." She said. Damon tore his eyes away from the club.

"Bonnie, I can't go in there. That fire will kill me as sure as a stake through the heart."

"I know, that's not what I'm asking. Just come here." Bonnie grabbed his wrist once he'd gotten close enough to her. She felt the shift in her magic, the uptick in power and focus. The glare of the flames lessened slightly.

Bonnie stopped chanting for a moment, pausing to catch her breath. The light of the fire danced across Damon's pale face. He was staring at her in wonder. Bonnie's stomach swooped. This couldn't continue, even if she didn't want it to end.

She slid her hand down his wrist and slipped her hand into his, interlocking their fingers. Her heart swelled and her power surged. Bonnie smiled tremulously up at him before she refocused on the fire.

She didn't want to think about how one day his hand wouldn't grip hers back, or how her jumps had been getting further apart, or how she was now probably just a couple of trips away from her own present. She didn't want to think about Damon in that future, and how all of her memories of him were now colored by the Damon that she knew, that she's friends with, that she's kissed, that she could, and maybe did, love. She didn't want to think about the ultimatum she laid down before she left, or the accident she may have caused, or the look in Damon's eyes when he looked at Elena.

But Bonnie wasn't one for purposeful denial. This whole trip had resulted from her selfishness, and she couldn't say she hadn't learned. For all that Bonnie wanted to be selfish in this moment, she couldn't be. So she chanted to kill the flames in the club where she had danced, and she pulled energy from the vampire next to her. Her mind wasn't on either. Instead, it mulled over everything she did not want to think about, and over it all she heard the voice of Emily, worried about Bonnie's accidental coven. You would do anything, give anything to protect them. If they're not willing to do the same…you could end up hurt and powerless.

Bonnie couldn't allow a rejection to break her. She had to learn to stand alone. Bonnie squeezed his fingers tightly one last time, steeled herself for the outpouring of magic, and let go of Damon's hand. He tried to catch it, to tighten his fingers and keep hold of her, but she pulled away.

"Damon, I need you to leave." Bonnie choked out.

"What are you talking about? I'm not going to just leave you here."

"I can't focus, I need to be alone now." His hand flexed and his jaw clenched, but he took a few steps back.

"Just for this spell. I'll go and get you a coat, okay? And some water. I'll be right back." Bonnie shook her head.

"No. I don't need anything." Damon took a step forward, and Bonnie could already tell he was going to be stubborn about this. She needed to head him off.

"I need a few hours alone with this. Come back at dawn, okay? We can get breakfast." Her reassurances hadn't worked that well because Damon had completely closed the distance between them. He stooped down, so he could look directly into her eyes without her craning her neck.

"Will you still be here at dawn?" Bonnie shrugged but kept her face hard, unyielding. She thought the length of her trips had been stretching, but she wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep in Damon's bed. She really needed to be more scientific about this.

"Okay. Alright, I'll go. But I'll be back at sunrise, on the dot, and we're getting pancakes."

"Sounds good." Bonnie said, nodding and trying to smile. He didn't break eye contact.

"Yeah, it will be good. You just have to be here." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before backing away again. He didn't turn from her, but walked backwards all the way to the other edge of the roof. He stopped short of the ledge and Bonnie lifted her hand to wave weakly.

"See you soon." Bonnie's words sounded false to her own ears, but they made Damon smile. Bonnie couldn't see the dimple at this distance, but she knew it was there. She'd memorized his face, his smile, without even realizing it. He dropped off the edge and disappeared into the night.

Bonnie turned back to the fire. She stayed on the roof, trying to control the blaze as best she could. Every time she thought she had it completely managed, enough for the fire hoses to do their jobs, it would reach a new cache of tinder, and burst forth again. It began to rain, but the fire still didn't die.

Eventually, Bonnie had to sit, wet and exhausted, and watch as people's own cars, and various delivery trucks, were brought in to bring people to hospitals. The city had run out of ambulances. So Bonnie sat, alone, with a fire at her back. When her bloodstone began to gain heat, Bonnie felt it against her thigh, through her dress and the purse she'd put it in. Bonnie reached in and grabbed it, pulling it from where it had lain, nestled neatly against her grandfather's necklace.

The stone burned, so hot that it should be blistering her skin, but her hand showed no signs of its heat. Bonnie looked up at the sky. It was full of smoke, but black as pitch. Dawn was still hours away.