A/N: Hi everyone! It's been awhile, I know. I've had the most difficult writers block ever but I'm not going to stop trying until I get this full series posted! Not abandoning the story I promise ;) 1994 Bamon is worth it. Once again, I'm planning on Bamon being a non-romantic pairing in this story just to stay true to the 1994 storyline (but angsty stuff is definitely full force). I'm also doing this chapter in Damon's POV so I hope you enjoy that too! Talk to you guys in last couple chapters- day 6 and 7 are the only ones left! I would like to thank my friends online for being so supportive of me. Especially Lana Archer. It means a lot- and thank you for reading! Please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or any movie or book that's mentioned. Only the writing.

…

Day Four

Damon's eyelids began to flutter, his pupils bathed in a steady stream of light. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his skull.

"Elena, will you close the blinds?" he sleepily grumbled, rubbing his aching head with his palms. When the intense light continued to stab into his brain Damon snatched up a pillow and covered his face.

"Please, Elena.I'm dying here!"

When he received no response, Damon forced himself to drop the pillow and pry open his heavy eyelids. In a rush of realization his heart sank as the low static hum of the TV reverberated throughout the living room, and the feel of the couch beneath him was far less comfortable than he remembered. He sighed, his head flopping forward in defeat.

"Oh, 1994 how I've missed you," he remarked with a dry laugh. It took Damon a minute or two to recall the events of the previous day. Let's see. There was breakfast, scheduling, alone time, the high school, the Grill- oh God, the effing Grill. Then…

"Bonnie," he voiced, his icy blue eyes widening. Where was the Little Witch?

Struggling, he began to boost himself into a sitting position. Once successfully vertical he felt a strange heaviness in his legs. He couldn't lift them.

"Jesus, how hung-over amI? I can't even feel my legs!" Damon began pushing pillows out of the way to assess the damage. He paused. "Wait a minute. Didn't we sort of, I don't know, fall asleep together? She must have already woke up…"

He resumed his search, and when his fingers drifted across a smooth head of hair he froze. Unblinking, he opened his mouth to speak, but the words lay useless on his tongue. There, somehow perfectly askew on top of his legs, was Bonnie freaking Bennett. She was lying face down, her left arm tucked underneath him while her right draped loosely off the side of the couch. Her soft, brown cheek was pressed firmly into his right thigh and her hair was sleepily mussed. In his shock, Damon was faintly aware of the rise and fall of her chest.

"Oh. There you are." Damon tentatively removed his hand that still rested upon her chocolate locks.

"Uh- just for the record, you would really be kicking yourself right now if you saw this," he whispered to her slumbering body with a smirk. "Too bad I can't reach my video camera for evidence."

His mischievous smile quickly faded as he recognized the sticky situation he was in. How in the hell was he supposed to get up without waking her? If he failed he just knew Bonnie would blame him for the whole incident even though she was the one latched onto him like a monkey. Damon decided to take the initiative to get up by flexing his toes while gently wiggling his legs. Pausing, he tensed, waiting for her to spring off the couch and nail him in the face with the nearest object she could grasp. When nothing happened, he sighed with relief. Gripping the couch cushions, he raised his hips and moved his left leg onto the floor. Bonnie didn't move. He wiggled his right leg until it was nearly out from under her until her arms suddenly extended forward and clutched his leg, pulling it back below her head. Damon sucked in his breath. She then made a soft moaning sound, her nails digging into his jeans.

"Stop moving," she muttered.

Damon could swear his dead heart almost popped out of his chest as he cautiously leant forward to examine her face. Her eyes were closed but her brows appeared to be knitted in frustration. She licked her lips, now wrapping both of her arms around his leg as if she were being swept away at sea. After a beat her expression softened. Damon could sense her heart falling back into its sleepy rhythm. She's probably just dreaming, he thought. But what's with that look? Was it- contentment? Damon let out a long exhale and ran his hands up and down his face as he decided to take one last precaution before removing himself completely. He returned his attention to his snoozing housemate.

"Bonnie," he encouraged, his voice rising a few notches. "Are. You. Awake?"

No answer.

"Okay then, I'm gonna get up now," Damon warned her unresponsive body. In a last ditch effort, he somehow wrenched her death grip away from his leg and lifted her by the shoulders. He slipped out from under her in vampire speed, his feet finally touching the ground. Luckily, in the now abandoned spot, lay several pillows to help cushion the sleeping witch. While still holding her up by the shoulders, Damon carefully laid her back down and stepped away from the couch. He thought for a moment that the loss of his presence awoke her when he saw her stretch and yawn a little, but in the next second she was curled up in a ball facing away from him. A few seconds ticked by until Damon found it safe enough to gather his discarded belongings and make his way to a shower. As he was about to exit the room, his eyes cast a backwards glance over his shoulder at the peaceful girl curled up on his couch. He felt a smile cross his pale lips, his headache nearly forgotten.

…

Damon used his foot to close the front door behind him, tossing an apple back and forth between his hands. He hummed a pleasant tune as he raised the fruit to his mouth.

"Only feeding yourself this morning I see."

Damon's head jerked in the direction of the voice, its owner still nestled contentedly on the couch. Bonnie had a blanket draped over her bare legs while she was leaned against the arm rest filling in something on a newspaper. Damon took a bite out of the apple and threw it over to her. She caught it, nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Good morning to you too. You're just in luck, I'm not opposed to sharing, Sleeping Beauty," he smirked. She unceremoniously dropped the apple on the ground and resumed her work, a sly smile on her lips.

"If you think calling me beautiful is going to get you out of chores today, then you got another thing comin' pal." Damon scoffed, plopping himself down in a chair.

"Oh, I'm not calling you 'beautiful' Witchy, I'm simply commenting on the fact that you've been sleeping all morning and you're still on the couch now." He crossed his arms behind his head. "'Lazy' is more accurate."

His housemate rolled her eyes, continuing to jot things down on the paper. He lay a questionable eye on her as she intently bit her lip.

"What exactly are you working on there, Bon?"

"I'm trying to figure out 5-Across right now, actually," she mumbled, tapping the pen on her cheek.

"You're doing a crossword puzzle. Of course that's your idea of fun."

Damon sighed, pushing himself upward and out of the chair. He stuck a hand in his pocket as he traipsed over to the couch, sidling up behind her to peek at the paper. He heard her make an almost inaudible sound of annoyance as she shook the newspaper and turned it out of his line of view.

"So, are you going to help me with breakfast or just sit there for the rest of eternity?"

She paused. "Listen, Damon. I really do want to help, even though I shouldn't care because you've been slacking off on chores…"

"-But?" he interrupted.

"But," she rumbled, "I'm not feeling well."

It was Damon's turn to roll his eyes skyward. He agitatedly ran his hands through his raven hair as he swung around the couch to face her.

"I'm sorry, can you possibly repeat that?"

She innocently blinked. "I said, I'm not feeling well?"

"We're kinda- dead, Bonnie! We're like actual ghosts wandering around in 1994 and you somehow come down with a cold?"

"I know that! Don't you think I know that?" she gave an exasperated expression, throwing her hands in the air. Damon put his hands on his hips.

"I don't know how, or why, but I honestly feel awful. I figured you wouldn't believe me but it is what it is," she concluded.

Damon could swear his brain-wracking headache was trying to make a comeback. He attempted to calm his nerves by making a trip to his trusty bar, snatching the bourbon off the counter. He tilted the bottle to his lips, consuming an ounce or two while he engaged in a staring contest with the witch. He wiped his mouth, placing the bottle back in its resting place.

"Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to put off practicing your magic?" his intense blue gaze was still in combat with her electric brown.

She shook her head. "No, Damon. It's not. I promise."

He observed her for another minute before giving her a reluctant nod.

"Jesus, I can't believe you're actually sick, you were all over me…" he grumbled, his face flushing of color. "I wonder if germs can spread here or not. Gross…"

Bonnie's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"

Damon's look of queasiness quickly began to subside as amusement spread across his features.

"You honestly have no clue?"

She sent her forgotten newspaper and pen to the other side of the couch as she sat straight as a board, eyes bulging.

"No clue about what? What happened? I wasn't the one practically soaked in alcohol!"

Damon grinned, resuming his seat in the chair. "We fell asleep on the couch last night, remember?"

She nodded after a moment. "Yes. We were watching The Bodyguard. You smelled horrible."

"Mhm, yep, of course you would recall anything that degrades me…"

"Skip to the 'all over you' part!" she exclaimed, eyes glossed over.

"Well, when I woke up this morning, you were hooked around my legs like some koala."

Bonnie furrowed her brows, crossing her arms in suspicion.

"Are you kidding? That's insane! I don't believe you."

Damon pointed a finger. "See! Look at you being a Witchy little hypocrite. You ask me to believe you're sick but you can't possibly believe me when I tell you we had a cuddle fest. Well, you did, at least."

Bonnie fell backwards into the pillows. "A cuddle fest?" she groaned. "Oh, my God."

Damon shrugged, boosting himself off the chair and giving a long stretch as he headed in the direction of the kitchen.

"You sure you didn't take any drugs when you were gone?"

"Oh please, I thought about getting it on video for proof but it took me forever to get your hands off me," he called, popping the refrigerator open. He heard her continue to groan. Damon smirked, grabbing the milk and a carton of eggs. She believes me.

…

Day Five

Damon was tired. One may even go far as to say- exhausted. Taking care of Bonnie while doing the list of chores he had stacking against him was beginning to drive him crazy. Not to mention, he had to take up all the work Bonnie couldn't do herself. That meant extra chores, which meant no sleep. He was beyond done with this.

"Every hour that passes by I'm turning more and more into a housewife!" Damon bellowed over the roar of the vacuum. He was just finishing up the living room while the sickly, blanket swaddled witch lay on the couch. Bonnie had spent most of yesterday held up in her room, Stefan's room, while he broke his back cleaning the entire house and preparing special meals for her desired tastes. Chicken noodle soup, rice casserole, jello, bread…Damon had never cooked more in his entire existence. Not even for Elena. What the hell was he doing?

Damon shut off the vacuum and shoved it away. He captured his glorious bottle of bourbon before collapsing on the floor. He took a swig, glaring at the girl causing him so much frustration.

"Okay, that's it. I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore."

Bonnie flipped another page of her book, he imagined her eyes rolling as she did so.

"Why don't you take a nap? You look horrible," she suggested monotonously.

"Look who's talking! It's safe to say we both fit the part of looking deathly now." Bonnie raised her chocolate eyes from the page and sighed.

"You're a vampire, Damon. Buck up and stop being such a drama queen. I've told you a million times how grateful I am to you for everything. Besides, you're not even the sick one!"

"I'm not the sick one! You're right. I've been doing double the chores because of you," he growled. "Not to leave out all the damn cooking. I mean, seriously, what's next? Crème Brulee?!"

"First of all, it's not my fault you went on some drunken escapade and forgot a days' worth of work. Secondly, who the hell asks for Crème Brulee when they're sick?!" she shouted. "What's the matter with you?"

"Shit, I don't know! I'm just tired, Bonnie. I want to go home." Damon could feel his mind spiraling out of control with his foot nowhere near the brake pedal.

Somehow, the glow that had left her delicate face a day prior had gotten even worse in the past second, her appearance darkening. She unwound herself from the blanket and shakily stood to face him. Damon felt a trickle of anxiety run through his veins. She wrapped her arms around her fragile body and her lip began to tremble. Damon instantly regretted starting this altercation.

"You- you don't think Iwant to go home?"

He paused, nervously running his hands over his face. Oh God, what have I done?

"Damon," she fumed, her voice rising. "You don't think I want to go home?"

"I don't know if you do, honestly," he stumbled. "You spend every day avoiding your magic like a disease, and then you tell me you're sick and I believe you. But you're not really are you, Bon? You're just scared or something, worrying yourself sick." Damon began to rub deep circles into his neck, eyes closed. "I think you want to go home, but not as much as me. You don't understand what's at stake."

There was a deafening silence in the room. Damon dared not open his eyes. Then he heard her scoff, and opened an eye to see her digging her nails into her arms. Her mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Not as much as you? I don't understand what's at stake? What exactly makes your wants infinitely more important than mine?"

Damon knew by now that he had opened a can of worms due to the fact that he couldn't control his temper. Now he was going to suffer the consequences. He quickly thought about running away, then decided against it. Whenever he came back, which he knew he would, Bonnie would be waiting to tear him a new one. He couldn't find words.

"Do you remember how we even happened to end up here, Damon?" her voice was cold as she stepped towards him, eyes wide with intent.

"We're here because I refused to leave you behind. I brought every single one of our friends through, practically ripping myself apart as I did so, one by one. Then I looked at Elena's face when she saw that you weren't with them. That you were lost. And it broke my heart for her," she continued, tears streaming down her face. "I searched everywhere for you, and when I found you, it was too late." Bonnie walked gently towards him and reached out, hands grasping his shoulders as they did not so long ago. "I held like you this, thinking that we would both be back with our friends and everything would be fine. But I was wrong, wasn't I?"

Damon's mouth went dry as he looked into her hurt filled eyes. His insides began to twist.

"I'm sorry I was too late, I'm sorry things didn't work out like we planned them to. I just can't believe you're standing here basically telling me I don't care when I'm always the one making sacrifices for us all. Somehow that's not enough for you?"

"I never said you don't care…"

"-you didn't have to!" she interjected, releasing her grip to punch him in the arm.

"You're in this house day in and day out moping around like a sad puppy crying about how much you're in love with Elena, and how much you miss Elena, and want to talk with Elena, and never think about how I feel!"

"It's not the same."

She punched him in the arm again. "You're so right! It's different isn't it, Damon? You miss Elena in one way and I miss her in another. You miss home in way that I miss in another. You're just so caught up in your 'typical Damon behavior' that you can't see past your own heartache, can you?" She paused for a moment, boring holes into his eyes. Then, she lay a fluttering hand over her mouth as she attempted hold back further tears. Damon could do nothing but stare.

"You're not the one who has to live with the fact that if your magic doesn't work, going home isn't even a possibility," she yelled. "You're not the one feeling powerless and weak here. That's me."

Damon had no idea why such a small girl could intimidate him so much and that, in itself, was frightening. He clenched his fists at his sides.

"That's not true. I feel that way too. About a lot of things."

"Like the secret you're keeping from me?" Bonnie stomped over to the couch and swiped the newspaper, holding it up to his face. "Do you wanna tell me what May 10th 1994 means to you, Damon? Or are we going to just pretend like that's not a problem either?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, nostrils flaring. "No, I- I can't."

Bonnie groaned, smacking her palm into her forehead. "This is never going to work if we can't be honest with each other and communicate. I think you know that," she whispered resignedly. He nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

"I guess we're just not there yet. I know I haven't done my best. But if we're ever going to have a chance of getting out of this hell hole, you need to start thinking of other people besides you." Bonnie pressed the newspaper into his chest. Her cheeks were stained of tears.

"You're selfish, Damon. You're a selfish man-child with an ego twice your size. If there's ever going to be a time for you to grow up, it's now. Stop blaming everyone but yourself." Damon let the newspaper fall to the floor, and could only watch silently as she spun away and gathered her discarded blanket off the couch, tucking her book beneath her arm. Her brown eyes were weary.

"Maybe you're right," she shrugged, voice low. "Maybe I'm sick because I stressed myself out, or maybe it's because I can't stand the fact that it's my fault we're not home. I don't know, Damon, but either way I'm sick. And now I'm officially sick of you."

Bonnie gave him a look somewhere between disappointment and disgust, and turned away from him, taking off towards her room without a backwards glance.

"Leave me alone," she whispered, shutting her bedroom door. "I'm done."

He knew Bonnie was talking to him, she did that sometimes, talking softly to him from her room. It was sort of a game they invented to pass the time, testing how well Damon could hear from a distance. This time neither of them were playing.

"Go away, Damon. I'll take care of everything by myself. I always do," came her muffled voice, distorted through the fabric of the blanket she was covering herself with.

Damon stood, alone, in the living room as the clock ticked past eight-thirty. He slowly went to the bar and grasped the bottle of bourbon, turning it around in his hands. He poured a glass and left it there, pushed to the center of the counter. He capped the bottle as he retrieved his leather jacket from the coat closet, and went out into the night.