Fire and Ice

by SweetVennum64

What if it had been Bonnie to save Damon from the fatal bite of Tyler Lockwood's fangs? Read and find out! ***Rated M for Smut and Language*** This will be a slow burn story of the Bamon persuasion so if that's not your kinda thing...well...read it anyway, I might change your mind.

5. The Cure

Hey Guys! I hope you're all still here, I know it's been a while since I updated.

This chapter is Bamon centric and I hope you enjoy.

Warning: There is bloodsharing in this chapter!

As always, leave comments, I like those very much!

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"Damon, there is no key under this stupid mat! I'm not blind!" Bonnie lifts Alaric's welcome mat to make sure Damon can see that there is nothing there.

"What the hell? Why would he move it?" Damon frowned, eyes wandering around aimlessly, looking for other places the key could be stashed.

"He probably took it so you'd stop inviting yourself over whenever you want, drinking up all his alcohol."

Damon rolls his eyes. "Like that's gonna stop me."

He steps toward the door and Bonnie wedges herself between him and the door, stops him with a hand on his chest. "Damon. You are not about to kick open Ric's door."

"I'm a vampire, Bon. I can be a little more subtle than that." He says. "Now move aside, little witch."

She thinks about fighting him on it but then again, Ric most likely has something on the other side of that door that could help them. She's pretty sure she could spell the door open but that would take entirely too long and judging by the amount of ooze and blood soaking through Damon's ace bandage, it's just not worth the trouble.

She sighs and steps aside.

He takes another half step toward the door and shoots her with that cocky grin before he grabs the knob and twists until the lock gives under his grip and the door creaks open. He waltzes right in like he owns the place.

"I hope you know you're fixing that." She says, following him into the small, one-bedroom loft Ric rented when he moved to town.

He makes a blah blah blah gesture with his hand and heads to the kitchen in search of bourbon.

Ric is at Duke with Jenna researching the Original Family but Bonnie had called him on their way over and he'd told her where to find everything and to take whatever she'd need.

She grabs her small medical kit from her bag before she hangs it on the coat rack next to the front door and heads over to the small dining table in the corner. She sees the stack of lycanthropy books Ric said he'd leave out for her before he'd left this morning sitting right on top. And underneath, he's got ungraded History papers and empty bourbon bottles strewn all over. She glances over at Damon where he's flopped down on the sofa with his feet kicked up on the table sipping bourbon straight from the bottle like he's not slowly dying.

She shakes her head and begins pushing Ric's things to the side so she can set up her supplies.

"Birds of a feather…" she mumbles, probably only imagining the chuckle she hears from the other side of the room.

She lays out the scissors, clean ace bandages and gauze, and moist towelettes.

She also pulls out a small jar of mystical ointments her grandmother had made.

Supposedly, it can slow down the spread of infections bestowed onto any supernatural being or it can delay the effects of any physical supernatural ailment, allowing time to find a cure.

Bonnie had never seen it used first hand, but her Grams told her a story once about how she'd used it on her mom when she was just a little girl after she'd wondered too far out in the garden and into some of her poisonous herbs.

She could have used it earlier when she'd patched Damon up the first time but decided against it, not really being in the mood to explain to Damon what it was and then listening to him gripe about witches and all the weird stews they cook up in their black cauldrons.

But after witnessing his first hallucinogenic fit, it couldn't hurt to try it out, right?

She takes a seat in the chair closest to the window and glares over at Damon where he's resting lazily on the sofa now, with his eyes closed and legs splayed, precious bourbon bottle resting between them.

"Could you dive out of the bottle for just one second and get over here so I can change that?" She sounds slightly annoyed and doesn't try to hide it. "Maybe pick up a book or two? Help me out with research while you're at it?"

His eyes stay closed as he takes a few more pulls from the bottle. He thinks she really takes her nickname, Judgy, way too seriously.

"I'll think about it if you promise to dial back on the condescension for a change and maybe remove the stick from your ass." He snaps back.

Satisfied when he hears her heartbeat do that familiar kick, jump when she's irritated but trying to control it, he leans forward to put the bottle on the coffee table, and finally looks over at her, drunken grin plastered to his face.

"Aw, come on, Bon. You can't tell me you're not getting a little satisfaction at seeing me this way,huh?"

He's still got bedhead and his cheeks are still fiery red and yeah, maybe she is enjoying his pain just a smidge and she makes sure it shows on her face so that he's crystal clear.

He finally stands from the couch and makes his way over to her.

His black leather boots are unlaced so they thump heavily as he moves closer and even though she made him button up his jeans, they still hang sinfully low on his waist and his black tank top has risen just enough for her to make out that vee cut just below his abdomen where it disappears behind his waistband.

And there her mind goes again…

No matter what their history is, no matter how much they fight, no matter how many times she's dropped him to his knees with some of her most powerful magic, no matter how many times she's threatened to kill him…

…and no matter how many times she's tried to ignore this one fact, she just can't…

She can't deny the fact that Damon Salvatore is one of the most beautiful creatures she's ever laid her eyes on.

A person would have to be blind not to notice. It's pretty much the first thing people acknowledge about him and he knows the effect he has on people and he uses his looks to his advantage to get what be wants.

He'd tried it on her, even. But where everyone else can get hypnotized by him, she could see right through that bad boy exterior and she didn't let him get away with it.

But she's still human. And still…she noticed...

She'd noticed it the first time he'd come up to her and pressed her back against her car door and got in her face, trying to intimidate his way into her mind in order to get his necklace back from her.

She remembers being shaken up by that whole thing, of course, but in the back of her mind she knew that it wasn't because she knew what kind of monster he was or the fact that he'd towered over her, but it was his eyes that had made her belly bottom out. The icy blue color made her feel like she was drowning in a frozen lake of emotions and her mind was so shellshocked that she couldn't have deciphered those emotions to save her life.

Or the time he'd attacked her in the woods a few weeks later looking to make good on his threat to take his necklace back if she didn't comply.

A dream had taken her from her bed that night and she'd woken up barefoot in her pajamas surrounded by trees, she'd been terrified when he'd grabbed her from behind, arm tight around her waist. But when his pinky finger slipped under her sleep tee to rest gently below her belly button, the muscles in her stomach twitched like electric shock. The tickle of his breath on her neck had made her shiver as he inhaled her scent and exhaled on a moan. The hard press of his chest against her back had awakened heat in her that had long been buried. It was almost like she wanted to welcome the danger just a little while longer just to see where it'd lead.

Damon elicited the most dangerous of any of her emotions and she didn't know which one of them should be more disturbed by it.

She'd never utterthese things out loud but it's almost like their constant arguing, screaming, fighting, bickering becomes this sort of tripwire of mixed up emotions that her body seems to read as foreplay while her brain just scoffs and feels ashamed for it all.

Even now, with him being pale and weak and disheveled with black circles under his eyes and needing an iron and a hairbrush, he's still and Adonis.

He exudes a deeply ingrained confidence and as he swaggers his way toward her he's got a knowing look on his face, barely hidden behind the pull of his lips where he's still grinning like an idiot.

Prick.

Her facial expressions have pretty much told him what she was thinking that whole time and she wants to brain herself for it. If she could blush, her cheeks would look like his right now.

He's eyeing her under his lashes as he grabs the chair closest to her, pulls it closer, and sinks into it, resting against the back of the seat and splaying his legs.

Thank God he decides to just stay quiet as he lifts his arm to lay flat on the table for Bonnie to work.

She scoots to the edge of her chair, both of her legs bracketing one of his, grabs the scissors and leans forward to inspect his bandage.

It appears to be crusted to his skin around the edges and in certain spots in the center where Tyler's fangs punctured.

She bites her bottom lip and grimaces. "I'm gonna have to…pull…at it a little, sorry."

He eyes her and if he didn't know any better he'd think he heard a hint of care in her voice. But that can't be right, can it?

"Why, Bonnie…was that…concern I heard?"

She rolls her eyes and starts to cut a slit down the center of the bandage.

"You make it really hard for people to be nice to you, you know that?"

The corner of his mouth ticks up likes he wants to smile.

"Oh. That was you being nice, was it? You'll have to forgive me for not recognizing it when coming from you." He pauses. "And anyway, nobody asked you for your sympathy."

The ever-present scent of honey that always follows her around has gone spicy and his mouth waters. He's not sure why he enjoys getting under her skin so much.

Maybe it's because she's so damn stiff, looking down her nose like she's so perfect.

In all the time he's known her, he's never seen her let loose. Or relax.

Granted, it is kinda hard to relax in a town like Mystic Falls but come on. When he's seen Stefan's smile more times than he's seen Bonnie's then there's a major problem. Stefan's got brooding down to a science but Bonnie is trying to give him a run for it.

No eighteen-year-old girl should be so damn uptight, especially because when she does finally smooth out those constant frown lines once in a while, she's actually not a terrible person to hang around. And more than that, she's not bad on the eyes. Her skin is smooth and looks soft to the touch and she's a good three inches shorter than her friends but under all those flowy shirts and loose jeans he can see she's actually got a woman's body hiding there. Full breasts and slim waistline that swells out at the hips to form a nice, round ass.

But her scent…

Witches blood has always been his favorite weakness.

Very rarely does he get the chance to indulge being that to most witches, he is the enemy. However, on rare occasions when he's been able to get close enough to seduce his way into her bed, it's a magical experience, pun intended.

Not all witches smell the same to him but they all have a sense of heat radiating from their core and it makes his fangs itch under his gums.

Bonnie has sort of a sweet heat. Honey and cinnamon and nutmeg and he guesses it's because of her virginity but she smells innocent and dangerous at the same time. Especially when she gets all riled up and bothered.

Her not-so-gentle tugging on the bandage snaps him out of his own mind, thankfully because he's just not ready to follow that line of thought to its end.

"Hey! Easy there, Glenda."

She feigns an innocent look "Well…you said not to be nice. I'm just respecting your wishes."

"Yeah. Figures you'd pick now to start listening to me. Try to leave some skin why don't you."

She ducks her head to hide her smile but she's a little more careful with him when she resumes.

"Why is it that you don't want anybody to be nice to you?" She keeps her eyes downcast as she cuts away at the last bits of white cloth around his arm.

She hears him exhale heavily.

"I'm not some charity case, Bonnie. I'm a big boy and I don't need to be coddled."

She pauses and glares up at him. "And what if it's not charity, huh? What if someone is genuinely trying to be nice to you and you're antagonizing them for no apparent reason?"

"And by 'someone', you mean you, right?"

And he refuses to let up with the stare and she fights not to squirm. "No…well, yeah. Maybe." She stumbles over her words like an idiot.

He laughs. High pitched, incredulous.

"You want me to believe you're trying to save my life out of the goodness of your heart? Is that it?" He pauses and when she doesn't answer he continues. "Well I don't. You said it yourself, remember? You'd feel guilty if you let me die, right? That's all this is to you. Keeping your conscience clear."

She goes quiet then. Turning his words over in her head for a bit as she inspects his arm.

The two puncture marks have stopped oozing and she doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Almost his entire forearm is puffy and red now and the purple and black veins around the wound have stretched up further, almost reaching his bicep. Her heart lurches in her chest and without even thinking she takes her index finger and traces one of the crooked, purple lines right up to its end between the crease of his inner elbow. The skin there feels hot and damp, almost spongey. A complete contrast to the rest of him which is smooth and cold, flawless.

The shaky breath she releases feels cool against his heated skin and he can almost feel the phantom ghost of goosebumps prickling in the wake.

His hand balls into a fist and the tendons in his wrist stand taught. He bumps her knee with his own where it still sits between her legs.

She startles, jerks her hand back and looks at him with wide eyes, and she doesn't know what the hell to do with the look on his face.

She exhales again. "Sorry…"

He's chewing on his bottom lip but doesn't move to speak so she refocuses on her work, grabbing one of the towelettes to start wiping away the dried blood staining his skin.

"And, yeah, you're right." She continues, picking up the conversation. "I would feel guilty if I just let you die, of course I would. That's who I am."

"But…I also…" she pauses, licks her lips and peeks at him from under her lashes.

He's looking back at her, expectant. His eyebrows are raised, hiding under the tousled hair falling over his forehead.

"Well, come on, spit it out, Bonnie. You're the one who decided to open this shrink session, don't chicken out now."

She rolls her eyes and curses herself in her head for taking the conversation down this road.

"Look. I just mean that…maybe you deserve to be saved. That's all."

His eyes widen minutely before he lets them fall as he squints at her like he's waiting for a punchline and she suddenly becomes really focused on cleaning his arm again.

She feels too damn vulnerable around Damon and she hates it. She always feels like he's gonna use her words against her to either make some joke out of it or threaten her. So maybe that's why she feels like she has to be mad at him all the time. Even if he hasn't done anything to provoke it.

Yes, Damon is a dick like…ninety eight percent of the time. But she's seen little flashes of his softer side here and there and that's why she always holds that little shred of hope that maybe he'll change.

Now, granted, it wasn't directed at her, but she's watched from a distance as his face goes soft and sweet when Elena's in the room. She's watched him gently brush Elena's hair behind her ear and handle her with care. She's seen him risk his life time and time again to make sure Elena was safe.

And he'll go on and on about how Stefan is a sorry excuse for a brother and that he'd be better off dead but she's learned to read between the lines with Damon.

When Stefan got kidnapped by the tomb vampires last year, Damon almost lost his mind. He damn near tore Mystic Falls apart looking for his brother. He'd be lost if anything ever happened to Stefan and she read it in the way that Damon couldn't let Stefan get out of his sight in the weeks after bringing him home. She read it in the way he'd find ways to touch him. Almost confirming that it was real. That he did save his brother. He's here. He's safe.

Damon does a damn good job at hiding it most of the time. But Bonnie sees it. He's a sucker for love.

"See. This is what I don't get about you, Bonnie. You constantly go out of your way to make sure you let me know how much of an evil piece of shit I am. You shove it down my throat and make sure I taste it." He pauses. "And then you go and say something like that. What's your angle, here?"

He doesn't know whether to take her seriously or if this is some witchy mind fuck she's trying to pull.

"Don't get me wrong, Damon. I still think you're a piece of shit." She says it matter of factly. "But, I dunno… I guess…I guess if you spend enough time with your enemy you start to pick up on a few things."

She glances up at him quickly before she refocuses, opening her grandmother's mystical ointment and smearing it over the bite marks.

He frowns. "Yeah? Like what?"

She pauses before she speaks again.

"Like the fact that you spent 150 years pining over one girl. And the fact that you didn't care what it took to get to her, you were willing to do it all."

His eyes drop to the table and in that moment, she knows he's thinking about her grandmother. And even though it hurts to know that the tomb spell Damon forced them to perform that night contributed to her death, she really wasn't trying to throw a guilt trip on him right now.

"Hey…" She ducks her head to catch his eyes again and when she does, she sees remorse there. That's all she could ever ask of him.

"That kind of devotion, Damon, is hard to come by these days." She finishes.

He rolls his eyes. "Well you see where that got me."

She grins, nods her agreement as she starts to wrap a clean bandage around his arm.

"I mean, yeah. Of course, you're an idiot for that." She chuckles. "But...the sentiment actually means something, believe it or not."

"It means what? I have a knack for falling for girls who clearly love my brother more?"

She shakes her head. Leave it to Damon to insist on not accepting the compliment.

"Well…yeah. There's that." She pauses and grins. "But there's also the fact that when you love…you love hard, Damon. And when you learn to give that kind of devotion to the right person, it's entirely worth it."

He hums and goes quiet. His eyes drift somewhere to the right while he turns her words over in his head and she lets him get lost in his own mind.

She figures he's done with the conversation and she's completely okay with that. Enough emotional baggage unloaded for one day. All things considered though, she feels like they actually made progress. And that's saying a lot.

When she glances over at him he's still buried in thought but he somehow seems…lighter, more at ease. And she's gonna count that as a win.

She secures his bandage with two metal pins and leans back in her chair.

"You're all cleaned up, Salvatore."

He lifts his arm and inspects her work, nodding his approval.

"Nice work, Bennett. Now all you need is a naughty nurse outfit and you'd be unstoppable"

He somehow makes the last word sound utterly filthy in a way that only Damon can and she groans.

"You're such a pig."

He wiggles his eyebrows at her and she kicks his boot with the toe of her sneaker.

"Go away before I change my mind about this whole life saving mission."

"Aw come on Bon. I thought we were starting to be friends." He puts on his best pouty face but moves to stand anyway, heading to Ric's bedroom, grabbing a few of the research books from her pile on the way.

She watches his retreating form as he lumbers to the far side of the apartment. He is so exasperating.

She brushes her hair off her face with her wrist and eyes the stack of research books in front of her. Exhaling, she drags the first book off the top and gets to work.

---

She's gone through two of the books before her vision starts to swim and she needs to come up for air. She stands and stretches her tired limbs before she heads to the fridge looking for anything that isn't bourbon. Her body is stiff from sitting in the same spot for so long and she can feel the beginnings of a headache behind her left eye.

She pulls open the refrigerator door and peers in. Just as she expected.

Beer, half loaf of bread, ketchup, and cheese.

She'd kill for a burger and milkshake from the grill right now.

She slams the refrigerator door shut and heads over to the sink grabbing one of the plastic cups from the drying rack and fills it with water from the tap.

Even though it's luke-warm and tastes slightly metallic, the feeling of the cool liquid hitting her tongue makes her moan a little as she guzzles it down. She fills the cup two more times before she's satisfied. She hadn't realized how thirsty she really was.

She puts her cup in the sink on top of the pile of dirty plates and cups Ric left there and leans forward, bracing her hands on the edge of the counter as she shuts her eyes and just…lets herself be for a second.

She feels like she's been in overdrive ever since she found out about Damon's werewolf bite and it feels good to just enjoy the quiet, even if it's only for a few seconds. This whole situation has made her actually miss her old life when her friends only used her to create daylight rings and cloaking spells and protection spells.

At least she was on familiar ground then.

But now? Now she feels like she's in over her head.

Responsible for saving a life.

Responsible for saving the life of a person she barely even tolerates and who barely tolerates her.

Responsible for saving him from something she has no clue how to fight.

She's on uncharted territory and it's up to her to figure it out.

Exhaling, she drops her arms to her sides and stands up straight again. But before she can turn and head towards Ric's room she registers heat at her back and freezes.

For the first time, she notices that the air in the room is charged and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She balls her hands into fists and turns around slowly, already knowing what she'll find.

A veiney-eyed Damon Salvatore.

Fuck.

He moves forward, crowding her space until her back is pressing painfully against the edge of the countertop.

"If you were thirsty, Katherine, you could have come to me." Damon speaks softly, his voice taking on a tone so light and gentle that it actually causes ripples of fear to run through Bonnies entire body.

She tries to concentrate on her breathing and remain calm but Damon's bloodshot eyes are making it a challenge.

"Come on, Damon. Not now, okay?"

She tries for sounding exhausted instead of terrified and fails miserably but apparently, it doesn't matter how she sounds, either way, because he just continues his monologue like she hadn't even spoken.

"I would have let you drink me. Or better yet…we should drink each other.

Bonnie starts to shake her head as she squeezes out from where she's wedged between Damon and the counter and starts to back away slowly.

He watches her retreat but doesn't move yet. Instead, he slides his tongue across his top lip, pricking it on a fang along the way, and she watches as the blood pools onto his tongue, spilling down his chin a little.

"Can you smell it, Katherine?" His grin is dirty, his teeth stained crimson.

"Damon…Damon. I'm not Katherine, okay?"

Oh, how she wishes she had a vervain dart in her back pocket right now instead of in her medical bag. Hanging on the rack. By the front door.

Hindsight is a bitch.

She glances behind her shoulder briefly and gauges the distance.

He catches the motion and follows her sightline and the grin that spreads across his face can be described as nothing short of feral.

"You gonna try to escape, Katherine? You know how much I love a good game of hide and seek."

His tongue curls around the word love and she shivers remembering a story Damon told Elena once about how Katherine used to hide in the overgrown gardens of the Salvatore Manor and make Damon and Stefan race to find her. And with them being human at the time, it took hours but Damon loved using his senses alone, and when he'd find her, it had made him feel powerful.

Bonnie imagines that the look in Damon's eyes right now is the same look he'd worn back then.

She's about halfway to reaching her bag when he starts to advance on her.

He's not rushing or using vampire speed, but he's deliberately moving very slowly, stalking her.

And she's terrified.

"Don't you want to hide? Make me work for it? That's the game isn't it, Katherine.?"

There is a hint of malice in his voice and her heartbeat jumps.

His gaze drops to her chest and he licks his lips, his eyes flash as he continues to advance on her.

"You're gonna snap out of this…" she whispers low, more so to herself than to him.

Her back finally hits the wall next to the front door and she breathes a sigh of relief and she thinks that maybe she can end this before it even starts until…

Damon hums low and he grins, a hint of his fangs gleam brightly behind his blood-stained lips and Bonnie shivers again.

"Looks like you're trapped." His tongue drags across his bottom lip as his eyes rake her body. "You're all mine now." He continues. His timbre low and penetrating.

She tries to inch sideways, back still against the wall, toward her black bag and she's so close but it all just seems so impossible and again she wonders, why me?

It is at that moment that Damon decides that the game is over and he speeds toward her, stopping just before his body crashes into her own.

She freezes instantly, breath caught in her throat as he towers over her. He's so big.

His eyes have gone blessedly blue again as he stares down at her, his gaze confused and cloudy. She thinks that maybe he's starting to figure things out and tries once more to coax him back to reality.

"Damon…please." She whispers.

He's standing so close to her that she can smell the copper scent of blood on his lips. Feel the warmth of his breath where he's panting softly.

"Damon…?"

She places a tentative hand on his arm and he frowns, tilts his head down to look at her fingers where they're lightly gripping his bicep. Sharp contrast between her honey brown complexion and the smooth paleness of his skin.

"Damon?" She tries again, louder this time.

She feels the muscles in his arm twitch and he returns his gaze to her face. His eyes look clear as he catalogues her features.

He takes a half step back and his eyes go wide.

"Bonnie?" He still sounds confused, but lucid.

Relief washes over her so immediately that she almost feels lightheaded.

"Yes…Bonnie." she breathes out on an exhale as she lets her head fall back against the wall.

She closes her eyes trying to fight down the rabbiting jumpy feeling shooting through her as her body tries to figure out what to do with the adrenaline still pulsing under her skin.

"Bonnie…"

And the way her name rolls off his tongue like a warning makes her eyes snap back open.

He's slowly backing away from her but his eyes are glued to her throat, his hands are in fists at his sides.

"I don't know what's wrong Bonnie but I…I don't think I can control it."

He's visibly shaking and she reads fear and lust equally in his eyes and her relief was so short lived.

"Control what, Damon?"

When he meets her gaze, the look in his eyes makes her wish she'd never asked. How many times can she put herself through this before she just snaps?

"The bloodlust."

His voice sounds strained and the way it trembles on the word makes her entire body run cold.

He's fighting with himself. He wants to go to her, he can literally hear her blood calling him but he knows it's wrong. He knows he shouldn't but it's getting harder and harder for him to remember why he should care.

"Bonnie listen to me." He breathes. "I need you to run…scream…stab me...something." He drags his fingers roughly through his hair. "But the longer you stand there, the harder it is for me to resist this."

What the hell is happening?! She thinks frantically.

"Damon…what is this? Why is this thing still affecting you? What-"

"Bonnie! Just Go!"

He growls, his fangs visible once more, and terrifyingly sharp.

This kickstarts her into action and she spins around to face the door, frantically yanking at the locks that she insisted Damon fix right away.

Irony's a real bitch.

Please please please please… she repeats on a loop in her head as her fingers fumble clumsily over the locks until finally, finally, she flips the last bolt over and twists the knob.

She yanks on the door but it won't budge.

"What the…"

The rest of her sentence dies a violent death in her throat when she spots the toe of Damon's boot wedged against the base of the door, forcing it shut.

"Damon…" She whispers, still facing the door, the fingers of her right hand still gripping the knob tightly.

He stays quiet but she can feel his slow, calculated breaths against the base of her neck where he's standing right behind her close enough for her to feel his presence but not quite touching.

His hands come into view as he plants them flat against the door on either side of her head, caging her in.

"I'm sorry, Bonnie." He whispers. "I tried…"

She leans forward until her forehead is resting against the door and she closes her eyes. "It's…It's not too late, Damon. You can still fight this." Her voice is barely there anymore and why is she even trying?

He moans low, almost sounding tortured, and she feels him shift closer to her, his chest lightly brushing against her back.

"You have no idea what this is doing to me right now."

And there is that desperate tone in his voice again. The tone that makes her ribcage crack and splinter.

She feels his fingertips trail lightly up her left arm and goosebumps fly up in their wake. She bites down hard on her bottom lip and keeps quiet.

When the tips of his fingers reach her shoulder, his grip tightens minutely and he coaxes her to turn around.

She allows him to turn her slowly until she's facing him, her back against the door now and when she opens her eyes and gazes into his own, they remain blue and she sees sadness and loneliness, lust and passion, and a little bit of the beast he's fighting to keep at bay.

He leans forward, dipping his head down to rest his lips against the shell of her ear.

"You smell delicious." He whispers, his lips brushing against her sensitive skin and a violent shiver racks through her soul.

"Damon…" She's practically begging now.

"Shhhh…" he quiets her, dips his head and drags the tip of his nose down the side of her throat until he comes to rest in her most sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder meet. He inhales and this time he moans deep, wanting, and she feels it all the way down to her toes.

His arm circles around her waist and he pulls her flush against him and they're fused together from chest to knee.

She can feel him…all of him, and they both groan.

"Bonnie, please. I can't…you're gonna have to make me stop…"

"Damon, don't…" She tries.

He leans in closer, pushing his center against her own and she nearly swallows her tongue. He smells like fresh laundry and Armani and fire and the firm press of him against her thigh is promising things that have her throbbing at her core.

"I want you…" He breaths against her throat.

In her mind she knows its not her he wants. She knows it's the bloodlust but she can't make her body agree with her.

He's trembling and she's trembling and all she wants is this.

"Your scent is mouthwatering."

He honest to God whimpers against her throat and Jesus if she could just get a lung full of air that isn't Damon Salvatore maybe she could think straight.

She tilts her head back, inhales long and deep, and Damon takes it as an invitation.

He hums and leans in, his arm tightening around her waist and his tongue presses against the skin of her neck, hot and wet.

"Oh…Jesus…" The air that filled her lungs tumbles back out of her mouth and falls like bricks of a building being torn down and Damon is licking and sucking the skin of her neck into his mouth and she's losing her mind here.

"Can I…?" He breathes.

He parts his lips and licks a long, wet line up the side of her neck and stops just behind the shell of her ear.

"My God, you taste even better, Bonnie." And he almost moans the words.

He uses the hand not circling her waist to cup the back of her neck and tilt her head to the side, giving him better access and she's panting now, fast and loud. Her hands are on his biceps but she's no longer pushing him away, just merely holding on for dear life.

She feels his fangs scrape across the skin of her throat and this is really about to happen.

Her knees nearly give out.

His fingertips dig into her hips as he holds her still, his knee pressed between her legs. "Bonnie…you have to relax…. your heart is going wild."

He's panting against her neck and he's salivating as the sound of her heart pumping strong and wet in her chest fills his ears. He can see the thump thump pulse of her carotid artery and he licks his lips.

"I can't…I'm sorry, I can't control it." She pants.

"Please. Just one taste, Bonnie. One taste."

Her fingers dig into the skin of his arms and she couldn't deny the slick between her legs if she tried.

"I'll make it good for you, promise. Just let me…"

She's writhing against his leg now, her hips are slowly circling like she's not even aware she's doing it. He hears her moan low in his ear and that's all he needs.

He opens wide and sinks his fangs into her neck. He feels her tense at the sudden intrusion and then she loosens up, goes pliant in his hands.

He takes his first pull and the moment her blood touches his tongue its simultaneously the best and worst feeling he's ever felt in his life.

It's warm and thick and her heart is beating so fast that he barely even has to work for it. She's practically feeding it to him. He can taste the heat of her magic and the sweetness of her untainted innocence.

It's instantly addictive and he knows he's not gonna stop unless Bonnie makes him.

He presses in, impossibly closer and just feeds his monster and she's letting him. She's actually getting off on it. The tangy-sweet smell of musk wafting from her lower region tells him as much. It's so thick in the air that he feels like he could inhale it and swallow. He's so fucked. She's so fucked.

If he wanted to, he's sure he could open her up right here and bury himself so deep inside her she'd be feeling him for weeks. The thought of it makes his dick jump in his jeans and he hears her quick intake of breath when she feels him.

This has all gone too far and the fallout from this…well, hopefully they'll both be too dead to witness it.

He doesn't know how much time has passed since he's been lost in bliss here with her pinned against this wall but he's aware enough to feel it when Bonnie's soft, breathless moans become heavier and more panicked and still, he can't extract himself.

"Damon…Damon you have to stop." Her voice finally reaches his ears.

She's pushing against his chest and it proves useless because he's still really strong and he's not budging. She's getting weaker and her vision is starting to swim and now she's panicking again.

She digs her nails into the skin of his upper arm now, no longer holding him there, struggling to free herself.

"Shit…Damon. You have to stop now!"

He groans his disapproval and holds her steadfast.

"Oh my God, Damon, its too much! You've taken too much, you have to…stop. Damon…"

He's crowding her and she can feel him all around her. She can feel the wet heat of his lips moving against her skin, draining her of everything that she is.

She's frantically thinking and coming up with nothing. She has no hope of reaching the vervain darts in her bag now that he's got her cadged in and pressed against the wall and she thinks about using her magic to give him an aneurism but in his condition, what if it kills him?

And then it clicks. That's it!

Her hand fumbles over his bicep and down to his forearm. She doesn't want to hurt him but she wants to live more so when she feels the rough edges of the bandage on his arm she digs her thumbnail into one of the puncture marks Tyler left there and he immediately tears away from her throat, growling deep and low in his chest as he stumbles back and falls to his knees.

She doesn't hesitate when she yanks her bag off the rack so hard that it tips and clatters to the ground, and flees for the bathroom on the other end of the hall, slamming the door and locking it she turns frantically scans the bathroom looking for anything she can use as a weapon.

Yanking the shower curtain back she finds a purple loofah brush attached to a wooden stick hanging on the showerhead.

She grabs it and snaps it in half creating a jagged edge. She drops to the floor and rifles through her bag until she comes up with one of the three vervain darts she secretly packed before they'd left her house this morning.

Feeling more secure now that she's armed, she holds her breath and strains her ears.

She steps closer to the door and tries her best but all she can hear is her pulse beating in her ears blocking out any other sounds. Her breath ragged and irregular.

What the hell does she do now? Hide in the bathroom for the rest of the night while she bleeds to death on the floor?

She turns to look at herself in the mirror and Jesus, her eyes are bloodshot and her hair is damp and sticking up in weird places.

There's blood on her shirt and her skin is torn open and puffy where Damon bit her and the wound is still slowly leaking blood.

She grabs a brown hand towel from the countertop and presses it firmly against her neck and tries to concentrate on controlling her breathing.

If she makes it out of this alive she's gonna kill Damon. And then kill Stefan on principle. And then she's gonna run away forever because what the hell has she gotten herself into?

She never thought she'd be one to let a vampire near her, let alone drink from her. And the bitch of the whole thing? That vampire ended up being Damon Salvatore.

She shifts on her feet and the slick between her legs reminds her of how much her body actually enjoyed it and she looks at her reflection in the mirror and shakes her head.

A small knock on the door startles her and she jumps back and holds her breath.

"Bonnie?" Comes Damon's voice on the other side of the door, low and cautious.

"Bonnie, come on, open up. I need to make sure you're okay."

She really does not want him touching her right now. Or looking at her for that matter.

"I…I'm fine Damon." She tries her best to sound convincing but she's looking at herself in the mirror and she is pretty damn far from fine.

"Bonnie, I can smell your blood. Please…please just open the door and let me heal you."

She grits her teeth and her unflinching stubborn streak is probably gonna get her killed one day but she's willing to take that chance today because this is just too much.

"Bonnie…" He speaks again when she doesn't answer.

"Damon, just go away. I'll take care of this." She pleads.

She hears him growl low on the other side of the door and she steps back and adjusts her stance.

"Listen, Bonnie. I'm really trying to be respectful here and not force myself on you…again…which is why I'm asking you to let me in right now. But I swear I will break this door open if you don't stop being so damn stubborn!"

He wiggles the doorknob and the door shakes on its hinges emphasizing his point.

"Okay, fine! She yells, not wanting to ruin Ric's house any more than they already have. "But…but I'm armed, Damon so…if you try anything funny…"

"I won't, Bonnie, I promise. Just open the door."

She exhales, puts her makeshift stake on the counter but holds on to the vervain dart, and unlocks the door.

As soon as he hears the click of the lock, he turns the knob and lets the door swing open slowly. When she can finally see him, he raises both of his hands as if in surrender and his face is carefully blank.

He eyes the jagged wooden stick on the countertop but doesn't say anything about it as he slowly steps inside the bathroom.

She's got the vervain dart in a death grip by her side and she's fighting herself to stand still and not flee from the bathroom. The apartment. The city…Jesus.

"I'm just gonna take a look, okay?" He's still moving toward her cautiously like she's a baby deer or something.

Not trusting her own voice, she just nods. She trains her eyes somewhere above his head because looking him in the eyes right now is not something she's quite ready to do after what they just did.

The closer he gets, the shallower her breathing becomes and her head feels like a balloon.

He's standing directly in front of her now, invading her space like he's been doing this entire time and she's angry and exhausted and humiliated and just wants this all to be over.

He hisses between his teeth and her eyes, against her will, jump to his.

Her body has been betraying her an awful lot lately but thankfully his eyes are trained on her neck and not her own.

"What is it?" Her free hand twitches and she wants to cover the bite marks and pretend they don't exist.

"Nothing…I just…I'm sorry, Bonnie." He whispers, now looking at her directly. His eyes are more of a crystal blue now instead of the dull grey they were earlier in the day. His skin looks flushed and dewy and his lips are wet and full and red.

He looks…rejuvenated.

And she's reminded of how he'd gotten that way as the image of him and her pressed against the wall just a few minutes earlier flashes in her mind. His warm mouth pressed against her skin...

She slams her eyes shut and forces the memory back down to a land where no one can ever dig it up and when she's confident that she won't flubber like an idiot, she opens her eyes again and exhales.

"Look, Damon…It's…it's fine okay? Can you just…do this before I bleed to death?"

He looks like he wants to say more but she pleads with her eyes for him to just shut up!

Finally, he nods and refocuses on her neck.

He slowly reaches forward and starts to brush her hair behind her shoulder and sweep it to the other side so he can see better.

His fingertips brush across her skin and she jumps, he freezes immediately.

Damnit, Bonnie! Get a grip! She scolds herself in her mind again.

"Sorry." She mumbles as she reaches to gather all her hair up and move it for him. "So…how does this work?"

He steps back a bit. "Well…I'm assuming you aren't gonna drink from me…"

"Uh…yeah. You assume correct." She interrupts.

He nods. "Okaaay. Well…I could just prick my finger and…kinda, rub it on there? It'll take longer to heal, but it's the lesser of two evils."

She chews on her bottom lip as she weighs her options in her head. This is a nightmare.

"Fine. Let's do it. No! I mean…rub it. Wait! Jesus. She slaps her hand over her face and shakes her head. "Prick your damn finger, Damon." She groans before she peels her hand off her face to regather her hair to hold it out of the way.

His eyes are dancing with barely hidden humor and he's chewing on the insides of his cheeks trying not to laugh at her and she's praying for a giant hole to open in the floor and swallow her whole.

He can hear her heart hammering wildly in her chest and her body temperature has risen a few degrees making her blood smell even more potent to him now but he's fully fed and, to be honest, feeling guilty enough about it that he doesn't let that make him lose focus.

If he's being completely honest though, he's rather enjoying the fact that she's being all awkward and squirmy around him. She's finally reacting like any normal girl would around an attractive, young lad such as himself.

Under different circumstances he could see himself exploring this weird, new dynamic between them.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Her voice cuts through his reverie and his eyes snap back to hers.

"Uh..what?" He stumbles. Had he been saying all that stuff out loud?

"What's taking so long? Still bleeding. Still painful." She says, gesturing toward her neck.

"Ohh…yeah. That. Sorry. Come here." He motions for her to step forward with his index finger and then uses his fang to prick that same finger before reaching for her with his uninjured hand, wrapping it around her shoulder and pulling her gently forward.

Her grip tightens on the vervain dart still squeezed in her fist, but other than that she remains calm as she allows him to move her.

He uses his thumb under her chin to tilt her head to the side.

"This might sting a little bit but it should start to feel better once my blood mixes with your own."

He carefully places his index finger against the wound. She's chewing on her tongue as he rubs in gentle circles over the first puncture and then the other and he pain in her neck immediately starts to ebb and dull.

Damon is making her feel better right now. Healing her wounds. Go figure.

After a few seconds…or minutes, who's even counting anymore, he's no longer touching her and the air around her feels cold as he moves away.

She tilts forward, subconsciously seeking his heat again and her eyes snap open and she grips the countertop to balance herself.

Thankfully he's facing away from her and rumbling around in the medicine cabinet so he doesn't see her embarrassing display.

He turns around waving a box of Band-Aids.

"Okay, it's gonna take a couple of hours for that to completely heal so I'm just gonna cover you with this and we're all done."

He gives her a tight smile as he digs into the box and opens one of the big rectangles. Peeling off the white, plastic adhesive, he steps back toward her. She tips her head to the side and he covers the two holes with the bandage.

Leaning back he eyes her neck for a beat before he gives an approving nod. "Okay, Bennett. Near death crisis averted."

Her fingertips brush lightly against the bandage on her neck before she looks him in the eye, small smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"Thank you."

"No problem." He smiles. "So…um. You think we could get back to my near-death crisis now?" He gestures at his arm.

She chuckles and shakes her head but shoves him toward the door.

"I'll see what I can do."

---

It turns out that between the two of them they'd uncovered some pretty interesting information and a probable cure.

Damon had shown her pictures of some old werewolf legend folklore text that Ric had sent him a few hours earlier that he'd thought would be of use.

Apparently, a portion of the text had come from an old Lockwood journal over 500 years old.

Marianna Lockwood, the first of her generation to activate the werewolf curse after murdering her abusive husband in his sleep, had started keeping a journal of all her gifts and abilities, as well as the downfalls of becoming a lycanthrope at such a young age.

Within the text was a phrase: "Combattere l'infezione Con l'infezione" which roughly translates to: "Fight infection with infection."

Damon had interpreted this as meaning Tyler's venom would be one of the keys to reversing the infection since his venom was the cause of his now terminal ailment but Bonnie didn't think that was a likely conclusion for so many reasons.

So after some more reading and back and forth banter, they both agreed that it was Tyler's blood they'd need, not his venom and of course Damon was more than willing to acquire that by any means necessary.

Aconitum Napellus, or Wolfsbane, was another ingredient they'd need which, if the text had been translated correctly, is to werewolves what vervain is to vampires.

Bonnie planned to stash some of that away for herself. There's no such thing as too armed in a place like Mystic Falls.

After they'd come up with a pretty hefty list of ingredients they figured most of them wouldn't be too hard to acquire.

Most of them.

There was this one flower, Amorphophallus Titanium. The Corpse Plant. Extremely rare and extremely hard to find.

Bonnie had to nearly sell her soul and sacrifice a baby deer to find the damn thing and whatever she did find still wasn't guaranteed to pay off.

There's a small witch tribe in Onacock, The Chretien Tribe, who supposedly grow and breed rare and extinct plants and herbs. Bonnie has no idea if they even have this Corpse Plant or not but it's their best shot and a three hour drive so after gathering up the other ingredients they hop in Damon's car and head to his fate.

---

Bonnie's pretty much in her own little world humming to whatever top ten hit is playing on the radio when Damon reaches over and lowers the volume to nothing.

She glances over at him confused before she returns her eyes to the road.

"What is it?". She asks wearily.

"Bonnie. You know that if this…tribe, or whatever, doesn't have what we need I'm probably gonna die before we get back to Mystic Falls, right?"

She purposefully keeps her eyes forward and her facial expression neutral.

"Yes, Damon. I am aware."

"So? Have you decided what you're gonna do with me?"

She looks over at him then, frown painting her features. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you know. If the odds don't end up in my favor."

"Still not following you here, Damon."

He rolls his eyes and sighs all put upon.

"Are you gonna burn me and leave me in some cornfield? Or are you gonna 'Weekend at Bernies' my ass back to Mystic Falls so my brother can say his last goodbyes?"

She tries not to flinch as she finally catches his drift. Focusing more on the feel of his steering wheel under her fingers.

"Well that's not morbid at all."

"Hey, I'm just getting to the down and dirty here, Bon. I know you like to stay in the land of unicorns but like it or not, and as tragic as it is for the both of us, you might be the last person to handle this sweet ass."

The laugh that escapes her lips almost startles her.

Leave it to Damon to find the humor in a situation that is completely void of it.

"You're an idiot." She slaps his shoulder with the back of her hand and he looks pleased with himself.

"What would you want me to do?"

He leans back in his chair and slouches into a more comfortable position.

"Hmmm. Well. No one knows I'm dying but you. If you leave me on the side of the road you can make up some elaborate story back home like me running off to Vegas with the hot bartender at The Grill."

"You call that elaborate?"

"Well hey, my brain is all werewolf poisoned okay? I can't be all witty and cool."

She chuckles.

"Speaking of, though. Why didn't you want Stefan to know?"

"I already told you, Bon. Stefan's got enough on his plate as it is and he just loves to brood. If I'd told him about this he probably would have killed himself trying to save everybody. I think this time I'd like to refrain from being my brothers burden."

"Oh, but being my burden is completely fine with you?"

"Ah come on and drop the act, Bonnie. You've loved all this time we've spent together today, admit it."

She rolls her eyes and looks over to glare at him.

He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

She scoffs. "Fine. I guess...you're not the worst person in the world."

He laughs big and open and Bonnie's amazed at how light and carefree and boyish he sounds. She's never heard him laugh like that. It was real. With sparkly eyes and all his teeth showing, perfect and white.

Her heart explodes with unexplored emotions for him and it kind of hurts and she wants nothing more in that moment than to keep him alive so she gets to chance to hear that him laugh like that over and over.

"You know what, Bon? You're not so bad yourself."

He leans forward and turns the dial on the radio until the music's back up to a respectable volume before he leans back and closes his eyes.

"Wake me when we get to Oz." he mumbles.

---

It's approaching midnight and they're about 45 minutes from the small farmhouse marked by an X on Bonnies GPS system when Damon's phone startles her.

She jumps and looks over at him where he's hunched over in the passengers seat still sleeping. He's got a light sheen of sweat over the part of his face that's not obscured by his thick hair. His skin looks greyish again now that her blood is no longer in his system. He'd pulled his Henley back on so she couldn't see his wound anymore but judging by the purple-blue tint of his hand, she could guess the condition of his arm.

He doesn't even flinch when the shrill ringing of his phone goes off again where it's resting on the seat between his legs.

She reaches over and carefully plucks the phone off the seat and reads the caller ID.

Stefan.

She pushes the green button and puts the phone to her ear.

"Hey Stefan."

"Bonnie? Hey, uh…what are you doing with Damon's phone? You didn't kill him did you?"

He means it as a joke but Bonnie can hear the underlying worry in his tone.

She offers a chuckle but it comes out dry and flat.

"Uh, no. No. He's um. Inside the library following up on one of his own leads. He just left his phone in the car."

"Oh really, what lead?"

Bonnie shuts her eyes. She's really terrible at lying.

"I'll um. I'll let him tell you about it when he gets back. So what's up with you guys? Did you and Caroline find anything in Charlotte?"

She prays he lets her get away with the not so subtle subject change.

"Oh, uh yeah." He say's after a beat. "That's actually why I was calling. It turns out that Klaus was looking for his mother's sacred burial ground.

She's a witch!" Bonnie hears Caroline's voice on the other end of the line, somewhere in the background.

"Wait, witch?! How is that even possible?"

"I have no idea." Stefan chimes back in. "We're still a little fuzzy on all the details but apparently if he finds it, he doesn't need the werewolf and vampire sacrifices in order to complete the ritual."

"You mean…he basically has everything he needs?"

"Well, from what I can tell, it was a false lead. I don't think she's buried in Charlotte but I might have an idea of where. We're almost back home. I know it's late but let's meet up in the morning and we can talk about it in detail, yeah?"

She glances over at Damon's sleeping from in the seat and she wants so badly to just tell Stefan everything. If someone else could just share this weight with her it would make it that much easier. But she promised Damon.

She exhales. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll tell Damon you called."

She disconnects the call and puts the phone in the cup holder between the seats and pushes down a little harder on the gas.

---

A dirt driveway leads up to a faded white Dutch Colonial style one story house with green shutters framing the four windows on the front. Three cracked cement steps lead to a small porch landing and a small archway frames the wooden, round top door that sits right in the center. A dull light can be seen flickering inside the left window in what Bonnie can only assume is a candle or lantern.

She eyes the house distrustfully from where she sits inside the car on the curb on the other side of the street.

There is one streetlamp at the end of the driveway while the rest of the tiny dead end road is swallowed in darkness.

She swallows hard and it's so quiet out here that she can hear the freaking hair growing in her ears. Her mouth is dry as cotton.

This is insane. How is this her life?

A sudden coughing fit from Damon startles her and she gasps, nearly flying off the seat as she clutches her chest and tries to force her heart back down out of her throat.

"Jesus, Damon!"

He's still coughing, curled in on himself with his injured arm pressed against his stomach and the hand of his other arm pressed against his mouth.

Surprising herself, she reaches over and gently rubs his back in soothing circles and hopes it's comforting him.

When he finally stops coughing he stays put and just breathes for a second before he drops his hand and straightens again.

Her eyes go wide as they both notice the small puddle of blood he coughed up in the palm of his hand.

"Oh my God. You don't have much time left." She whispers.

"You don't think I could have some more of your magic blood, do ya?" His voice sounds like gravel and he wiggles his eyebrows in typical Damon fashion but in his current condition it doesn't really have the same effect. It's more adorably sad than anything.

She glares at him and he rolls his eyes.

"Lighten up, Bon. It was a joke." He says.

"Well I don't think it was very funny."

"Of course you –…" He pauses. And then his facial expression changes like he's just realized they aren't driving anymore.

He peers out of the front windshield before he ducks his head to peer out of Bonnie's window, eyeing the house she'd been trying to acquaint herself with while he was sleeping.

"This it?" He frowns. "Kinda creepy. Exactly what I expected from a witches lair."

"Shut up, Damon. Your savior could be inside that house. I'd stow the snarky comments."

"Well what are we still doing out here then? Let's go meet our little friends."

And he's up and out of the car before she can even respond.

"Jesus, he's gonna get us both killed." She mumbles before getting out of the car, jogging to catch up to Damon who's strolling right up to the house like he's going to meet up with his long lost cousins.

"Damon!" She whispers, grabbing his shoulder and halting him before he reaches the porch steps. "These are witches. You're a vampire. Don't you think I should do the talking?"

"Jesus, Bonnie. What do you think is gonna happen here, huh? Burning at the stake?"

"Well…Its not unheard of!"

He really doesn't want to fight with her. Not right now. So he leans back and crosses his arms.

"Okay then. What do you suggest, Bonnie?"

"Just…just trust me, alright?"

He looks like it literally pains him to keep quiet but he does. And instead he steps back, extending his arm. "After you."

"Thank you." She exhales a breath of relief as she ascends the short staircase.

She can feel the magic radiating from inside the house and its nothing like she's ever felt. It's strong and overpowering as it tingles over her skin. It doesn't feel evil or menacing, but rather strange and unfamiliar.

She glances back at Damon who's still standing at the bottom of the porch landing with both hands in his pockets and a weary look on his face.

She turns around and raises her hand, hesitates briefly before she knocks the brass doorknocker three times.

A faint clatter can be heard on the other side of the door like tin cans banging together but it stops suddenly after she knocks. All is quiet for a beat before shuffling feet can be heard coming toward the door.

When she hears the door locks being released she takes a full step back and catches Damon shuffle a half step toward her out of the corner of her eye.

The door creaks open a half inch and the faint glow of light she'd spotted from the window glows faintly from somewhere inside the house but does nothing in helping her make out the face that belongs to the eyes currently peering at her.

"Umm…h-hello?" Bonnie stammers.

"Who dares disturb me at this hour?"

The woman's voice is low but gritty and strong, carrying with it the slight twang of New Orleans born.

"Identify yourself, Stranger." The woman demands when Bonnie doesn't speak.

"Yes. Um. My name is Bonnie. And…and my cousin, Lucy told me about you and-…"

"I don't know no Lucy. You been lied to." The woman cuts her off.

"No. I mean yes, I know. But she's a Bennett. And see-…"

"A Bennett?" The woman sounds surprised.

She finally opens the door fully and steps out onto the porch directly in front of Bonnie looking her up and down.

She has a head full of thick, grey hair grown past her waist and pulled back into a simple braid. Her face is oval, her jawline strong and pointed chin. Her skin is dark and smooth and she looks to be in her late forties but the small lines around her mouth and eyes hint slightly older. Her left eye is grey and cloudy while the other is the color of desert sand. Her full lips are pulled down into a frown as she critically eyes Bonnie. She's at least an inch shorter than Bonnie but her presence is bigger than everything around.

"Bennett? As in The Salem Bennett's?"

"Yes ma'am." Bonnie nods.

Her eyes shift and she looks behind Bonnie. Her eyes darken as she eyes Damon who surprisingly hasn't made a sound this entire time.

"And who's he?" The woman's lip curls as she nods toward him.

Bonnie glances briefly behind her before she returns her attention to the woman in front of her.

"Um. That's Damon. He's actually the reason I'm here."

The womans eyes snap back to Bonnies, wide and shocked.

"What business has a witch with a demon?" She spits the last word like it tasted like acid on her tongue.

Okay. So she already knows he's a vampire. No Biggie This could be a good thing. She thinks.

"Well. He's actually a friend of mine and I was hoping-.."

"Friend? My child, no!" She steps back inside the house before she turns back to Bonnie inside the threshold. "Vampires are no friends of ours. They…" She pauses and glares at Damon. "They are disgusting and vile creatures, child. Forever and always. Now I suggest you get him off my property before I'm forced to do it myself."

And she goes to close the door.

"No! Wait! Please?" Bonnie stops the door with her hand. "Lucy said that your family and my family go way back and that my ancestors helped your ancestors escape down to New Orleans during the witch trials and that our families look out for each other."

She looks back at Damon who's so quiet and so still that he almost looks statuesque standing there.

When she turns back to face the woman, her eyes are pleading.

"Please, ma'am. He's my friend okay? And he's gonna die unless you help us. Please?"

The woman sighs and shakes her head at Bonnie like she's let her down in the worst way but she finally steps aside and gestures for Bonnie to come in.

"Oh my God thank you so much."

She turns to Damon and motions for him to join them.

"No child. The woman's voice goes stern and serious. "You may enter. But the demon stays put."

Bonnie looks at Damon who's giving nothing away. She has no idea what he's thinking but she hopes its nothing stupid.

"Could you give me a second?" She whispers to the woman before she heads down the steps toward Damon.

"Are you gonna be okay out here?"

"Well it's not like I have a choice now is it, Bonnie?"

She glances back at the woman who's still standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, eyeing them both closely.

"Look Damon. It'll be okay. Okay? I'm gonna go in here and get this cure and everything's gonna be alright."

He exhales and shakes his head.

"You don't even know this lady, Bonnie. And now you're gonna go inside her creepy little house alone in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere and you think everything's gonna be alright?" He sighs. "All this isn't even worth it."

She steps forward, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Damon. This is worth it if it'll save your life." She pauses. "You're worth it, Damon." And she means it.

The poleaxed look on his face tells her he's as shocked at her statement and she is and she really doesn't know what's going on between them but she's not entirely sure she hates it.

She gives his shoulders a tight squeeze before she turns to head back up to the house.

He grabs her wrist before she makes it to the first step and pulls her around and back toward him.

"What?..."

He's looking at her but he can't figure out what to say because for the first time, he's actually…looking at her and she's fucking beautiful.

"I-…" He stammers, glancing up at the woman whose eyes are squinted suspiciously now.

He exhales and leans forward until they're nearly nose to nose and he feels the way her pulse increases as it thumps against his fingertips still wrapped around her wrist.

"Just be careful, okay?" He whispers.

She's momentarily stunned as she stares at his lips, her own mouth slightly parted.

The woman clears her throat behind them and she drops her eyes, he releases her wrist.

She nods to him before turning and heading back up the steps.

---

Despite the place only bearing the very bare minimum of décor, it still feels warm and cozy, welcoming despite the woman's hesitancy to let her inside the house which is basically one big room, separated only by the placement of the scarce amount of furniture that she does have.

The walls are white and bare, save for a few scattered wall sconces with candles burning in them.

An old, burnt orange sofa and small pine wood coffee table sit in the middle of the room, a lone burning candle sits in the center of the table on a white saucer.

There are two closed doors on the far-left wall and a giant bookshelf takes up the remainder of that wall space. The bookshelf stretches from wall to ceiling and looks as if it could hold thousands of books where she's got a couple hundred or so thrown haphazardly into the slots.

A round table sits against the right wall with two mixed matched ladderback chairs on either side. A ball of wool and knitting needles rest atop the table and a fleece blanket is thrown over the back of one of the chairs.

The table sits so that the entire street is visible from inside the house when one is sitting there and Bonnie imagines that the woman must have been sitting there watching her watch her house from the street.

Beside the table is a tiny stand alone, basin style sink and a small countertop area housing her one and only visible appliance, a hot plate. There is one cabinet underneath, which Bonnie assumes hold her dishes.

She wonders if the woman lives here by herself and if so, if she gets lonely. Or scared.

Bonnie thinks about running away at least a hundred times a day. Running away from everyone to find someplace where no one can find her. But she couldn't imagine being out here like this all by herself forever.

"Well, come child. Sit."

She turns to find the woman sitting on the floor cross legged in front of the coffee table. She's also placed a small, square corduroy floor pillow on the other side of the table, directly across from her and she motions for Bonnie to sit.

When Bonnie's taken her place on the floor across from the woman, she pushes the saucer holding the candle aside and brings up a pair of tarot cards from seemingly out of thin air.

She shuffles the cards as she eyes Bonnie closely.

"That demon out there." She nods to the door. "Why have you gone and gotten yourself tangled up in that?" The woman asks. And her tone no longer holds the scathing disdain it held when she'd spoken of Damon before.

Now she seems only curious.

"I don't know what you mean." Bonnie frowns, keeping her eyes on the woman's swift moving hands as she continues to shuffle the cards."

"I saw the way you moved around him out there. The closeness between the two of you. The way you did not flinch when he touched you. The look in his eyes. I know the look of love when I see it, child."

Bonnie's eyes snap to the woman's and she almost chokes on her tongue. "Wh…what?" She almost squeaks. "No. Look. I am not sure what you think you saw out there but Damon and I are just friends okay? Nothing more. And he most definitely does not love me."

The womans eyes say that Bonnie is a fool but she stays quiet as she finishes shuffling the cards and spreads them out on the table.

"What are you doing with those."

"You're seeking my help are you not, child?"

"Yeah, but-…"

"You call yourself a Bennett but you don't know to consult with the ancestors before tampering with the balance?" She tilts her head and looks Bonnie over with critical eyes.

"Um-…"

"You're fresh." The woman's eyes widen. "Your magic still smells innocent, yet your energy is a force I haven't felt in ages. You haven't even begun to tap into your power. Ohhh and power you have, child." She pauses. "You poor thing. How have you gotten tangled up in something of this magnitude so young?"

"What do you-…"

"That demon out there. He's dying, is he not? And you're here tamper with the powers that be. You want to defy fate." Her tone holds no question.

"How…how do you know all of this?"

"This is a reading, my child." She shakes her head. "You have so much to learn, my dear." She extends both hands across the table, palms up. "Now place your hands in mine. Palm down."

And when Bonnie complies, she continues.

"First. I will channel your energy and your aura and once our mediums have been introduced, I may conduct your reading."

Bonnie nods her understanding.

"Now. Close your eyes, my child."

The woman starts to chant her spell, quick and low and Bonnie's not even sure she's saying real words until she starts to feel a warm tingling in her fingertips and she knows her magic is being called forth as the tingling feeling spreads up her arms and throughout her body.

"Breathe, my child." The woman whispers. "Open yourself up and seek out my energy as well."

Bonnie does her best to breathe in and out. Relax. Focus.

This is so weird.

The woman begins her chanting once more and Bonnie tries her best to concentrate and follow her instructions.

"You may open your eyes now, child."

When she does, the woman now has a faint white glow surrounding her form and Bonnie gasps. "Is that your…?"

"My aura, yes. You've begun to awaken your magical essence and with practice and time. You will be a force to reckon with, my dear."

"But how do I learn?" Bonnie wonders.

And for the first time, the woman smiles. "You're eager, child. You have fire. But patience is of great importance. In time, child."

The woman refocuses her attention on arranging her cards on the table.

"Now. Shall we get to the reason you are here?"

Bonnie nods.

"If the ancestors grant it, I shall give you what you need to save your friend. If they do not, you must leave and your friend must accept his fate and you, my dear, mustn't go tampering with it on your own or there may be grave consequences. Are we clear?"

Bonnie swallows hard, nods her agreement.

The woman gathers up all the tarot cards and stacks them back into one pile on top of the table, then flips the top card over.

"Ah. The first card represents a topic I have already discussed with you. Focusing more on you. Honing in on your magical gift and perfecting it. You waste too much of your energy on others and not nearly enough time on yourself. That type of behavior leads right to a grave, my dear. Beware."

Bonnie has known this fact for far too long and yet she continues to ignore it in favor of making everyone else's life better. She intends on changing that very soon.

The woman flips over another card.

"My, my." She looks up at Bonnie, eyes slightly widened, mischief playing deep in her eyes. "This is quite peculiar."

"What is it?"

"This card represents your unconscious emotions. Emotions that you've buried, whether purposefully or otherwise." She pauses and grins. "This is also a topic I discussed with you briefly. You have feelings for that demon. And they are far more than friendly."

Bonnie's mouth drops.

"No. That can't be right." She looks up at the woman. "That's not true!"

The woman smiles again. "The cards don't lie, my dear."

And with that, she uncovers another card and Bonnie hears the woman make a small surprised noise in the back of her throat.

Bonnie groans internally and she really doesn't want to know.

"Now this is a surprise." Her voice taking on a tone of awe as her fingertips brush over the face of the card. "I haven't seen anything like this in all of my 300 years."

"Did you…did you just say 300?"

The woman chuckles. "Well don't sound so shocked, my dear. Witches are of the most powerful beings on the planet and over the centuries we've learned a thing or two. Extending our life expectancy being one of them, obviously. You'll learn in time, my dear. Now focus."

She points down to the card. "This card is the card of Twin Souls."

"I don't know what that means." Bonnie frowns.

"Have you ever heard the term…soul mate, my dear?"

"Um, yeah, but…" and her eyes widen when she realizes what the woman means. "Are you trying to tell me that me and Damon…Damon and me…. we're…what?"

"Believe it or not, dear, I'm as shocked as you are." The woman says. "Usually it is like souls that choose to join into one. Two humans. Two witches." She continues. "But never have I seen the soul of a witch and a vampire intertwine."

"But...how? Why? I…what?"

How in the hell is Damon her soulmate? They literally hated each others guts a day ago. And now he's her soulmate? This lady is insane.

"Again I say. The cards don't lie, my dear."

The woman gathers up her cards and stands, Bonnie follows her lead.

"The good news is that the ancestors have granted me the permission to help you, child." She pauses. "The bad news is that now you're going to have the chance to acknowledge and explore those buried feelings you have for that demon." She grins. "Wait here."

And with that she disappears behind one of the closed doors on the far left wall while Bonnie stands in the middle of a strange room and feels her whole world get turned upside down.

Damon is my soulmate? She thinks.

That doesn't even sound natural. It sounds impossible. She wonders if it's some kind of weird sick lesson the ancestors are trying to teach her about being too invested in helping the vampires. Either way, she doesn't have to let this weird psychic reading come to pass, does she? Of course not. She's got free will and she's decided that Damon is not her soul mate.

So there.

The woman reemerges holding a small glass jar and a thick, leather-bound book.

"This is your flower, my dear. And this book contains your spell. Now hurry. Your demon doesn't have much time left."

She piles the items in Bonnies arms and shuffles her toward the door.

Damon stands and turns when Bonnie finally emerges from the house and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief that she appears unharmed. He nearly chewed his arm off just to have something else to distract him from worrying sick over her being in there alone with that woman. He'd tried to use his vampire hearing to spy on them but the woman apparently put some kind of privacy spell over the house.

Old bat.

"Drive safely, my child." The woman says from her doorway. "I'm sure you two have much to discuss." She grins and nods her goodbye before shutting her door.

Damon frowns down at Bonnie as she skips down the porch steps and right past him.

He follows closely behind. "What the hell is she talking about."

"Nothing. Lets go, you're running out of time." She throws over her shoulder as she continues her way to the car.

---

The nearest motel to them was another hour outside of town and by the time they'd arrived, Damon had been reduced to a moaning, shivering, delirious mess. He'd been moaning and mumbling about the war and about Stefan. He kept apologizing to some Enzo person and he'd thrown up so much blood that the entire front of his shirt was sticky with it.

It was nearly three in the morning and there was no one inside the little office settled in the center of the parking lot so she parked the car on the far side of the building and rooted around in her purse for a hairpin.

The motel was an old ancient building that still used real keys instead of keycards so it would be a piece of cake to pick the lock. If she's lucky they'll only be there for a couple hours, tops, to do this spell and get out of there before the morning desk clerk arrived for work.

She hops out of the car and makes quick work of the lock. She probably could've kicked the door in, it was so flimsy.

She loads all her supplies and her spellbook into the room before going back out for Damon. He was passed out in the passengers seat but startled awake when she'd opened his door.

"Huh?" He pops up and wipes his eyes. "Where are we?"

She ducks down so she can loop his uninjured arm around her shoulders to help him out of the car and he goes willingly.

"We're two hours outside of Mystic Falls. I got us a place to set up the spell and then you should be good as new."

When she's finally got him standing up straight and out of the car she kicks the door shut with her foot and starts steering him to the door. He's trying his best to help her carry his weight but his legs don't work anymore.

"I'm sorry, Bonnie." He whispers.

"Shhh. It's okay, Damon. Let's just get you healed."

The reversal spell was a bitch to translate but after forty five minutes, Google on her phone, and two of her Gram's grimores, she finally had the translation figured out.

She combined the ingredients in the empty ice bucket on the nightstand and chanted the incantation.

She could feel Damon's eyes burning a hole in the back of her head where he was laying on his back on the bed, now shirtless, but she did her best to ignore him while she finished the spell.

Once the incantation is finished, she grabs one of the complimentary plastic cups from the table and pours the liquid inside until its full to the rim.

It's thick and black like tar and it smells like rotten eggs and she is so glad she won't be the one drinking it.

"Okay. I think we're done." She says and he sits up a little more, resting his back against the headboard when she approaches and takes a seat on the bed next to his hip.

He smiles, small and sad, taking the cup from her hands and eyeing the liquid.

It hits him suddenly that he's sitting here with a cure for a werewolf bite that would have killed him. He would have been dead in the next hour or so if Bonnie hadn't gone through hell and back to get this for him. He has done absolutely nothing to deserve the amount of unflinching kindness she's shown him over the past day. She'd told him he was worth it. More than once. And she'd meant it.

Outside of his brother, no one has ever sacrificed for him the way she has done and if this cure does work, that means Bonnie gave him his second chance and he's gonna make sure he spends every moment making sure she knows how grateful he is for that.

"Well? What the hell are you waiting for? Drink up." She says, tapping him on his leg.

He glances at her briefly before he sits the cup on the nightstand, leaning forward until they're eye to eye. A mere hairsbreadth of space between them.

He licks his lips. "Bonnie, listen. In case this doesn't work, I just need to get a few things off my chest."

"What are you talking about, Damon? It will work."

"Bonnie, please. I need to say this, okay?"

She nods and he can see that her eyes have gone guarded.

"I don't think you realize what you've done for me here. I mean, like you said, I put a lot of work into pushing people away and keeping them at a distance. But you're so stubborn, Bonnie Bennett."

He smiles when he hears her chuckle.

"You're so stubborn and you broke down all my walls and recognized all my tricks and called me out on all my shit." He continues. "And I just want to say thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for fighting for me. And thank you for helping me realize that I'm worth it."

She smiles and he can't help returning it. "You're welcome, Damon." She whispers.

He lets his eyes drop to her lips before he returns her gaze.

"And… I also wanted you to know that I am crystal clear and of complete and sound mind when I do this…

He leans forward slowly, giving her time to stop him if she wants to.

He hears her startled intake of breath as it finally clicks in her mind what he's about to do and at first, he thinks she will stop him.

Never in a million year would he have imagined that she'd close her eyes and slide her hands up to his shoulders, holding on, guiding his mouth to her own and when his lips press to hers, she opens for him immediately.

He kisses her slow and deep, curious and exploring as he uses his tongue to part her lips and she moans low and wanting as her hands slide up to the sides of his neck and into the hair and the nape of his neck. He groans and he leans in more, sucking on her tongue and eating at her lips.

It's gone dirty now, and urgent and he knows they gotta stop so he pulls back just enough so that their lips are no longer touching but still well within each others space.

Their breathing is ragged and heavy and he can hear her heart hammering in her chest.

"Wow…" She whispers.

"Yeah…" Is all he can come up with at the moment, leaning back and reclaiming the cup off the nightstand.

He eyes the liquid for a beat before he raises it in the air in toast. "To second chances."

She smiles. "To second chances." She repeats.

And with that, he downs the entire cup.