A/N: Still interested in this, read on. Thanks for the continued support, guys!

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith/CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

Oval shaped teeth gouged her bottom lip, blood-filled capillaries burst and bled but Bonnie hardly even noticed the taste of her own blood. She had unearthed a dusty, old map of the world and unfurled it along the floor of her in-dire-need-of-repair living room.

"Stupid, stupid freaking vampire!" she muttered heatedly undergoing an assortment of emotions ranging from anger to worry to resentment.

Part of her wanted to rage this wasn't her life anymore, or more to the matter this wasn't the life she wanted to resume. Escaping one prison just to be thrown back into the same penitentiary of coming to the rescue of some dummy that couldn't stay out of trouble for two minutes.

Yet she tempered those contemplations because it was Damon. Whatever caught up to him now sounded far too serious to be taken lightly. He said that they put something in him which cut off his ability to heal. He was hurt. Alone. Trapped. At the mercy of someone who clearly wasn't doing him any favors nor had his best interest at heart.

"Okay," she breathed and perched her hands on the very knees she rested on.

Bonnie hadn't exactly executed a spell since being rescued from 1994. She knew she had her magic. She could feel it buzzing and moving like a current of renewable energy right underneath her skin, but would it act up? It wasn't known for always being cooperative, and when she couldn't burst through certain strongholds built in her own mind, it made executing a spell a hit and miss calamity.

"Concentrate, breathe," Bonnie coached, closed her eyes and began chanting the spell she used to track down Silas when she didn't have his blood or anything belonging to him to use.

She had had the help of Expression then. What was flowing through her now was her ancestral magic. Spirit magic. Would they even allow her to perform the spell without there one) being something which tied directly to the person she needed found, and two) being a disastrous consequence she more than likely would end up paying?

They needed to remove that stick from their asses and let her do her thing.

The candles around her burned higher and brighter. Picking one up, she spilled the wax on the map and never ceased in her chanting.

The line of wax headed west, then north and stopped on a town Bonnie had certainly never been to called Vanceville.

Snatching her phone, Bonnie called Stefan.

"Hey, Bonnie? What's up?"

She sighed heavily, "It's Damon. Someone kidnapped him."

"What?!"

"Yeah, look listen—"

"—he hasn't been back for two months and already he's being snatched. I bet it was that asshole Tripp Fell. You need my blood for a—"

"—I already did a locator spell. He's in a town called Vanceville. Ever heard of it? It's," Bonnie studied the map. As much as she used them she still hadn't mastered reading one precisely. "It's maybe twenty-five miles north of Mystic Falls."

"Why would they have taken him there?"

"I don't know, Stefan!" Bonnie burst in exasperation. "I just need you and possibly Enzo to meet me there."

"All right. Maybe I should…"

"Hell no," Bonnie bounced to her feet and cut off Stefan's train of thought because she knew exactly what he was about to suggest. "Getting her involved is the last thing we need to do. Don't say anything to anyone about what's going on. We need to hurry. I'll see you there."

"I should swing by and pick you up."

"We don't have time for that. Just get Enzo and get to Vanceville as soon as you can."

Hanging up her phone, Bonnie moved through her house like a hurricane with a very distinct mission. She stripped as quickly as she could out of her party dress and heels, replacing them with sensible dark attire and flat boots. Not one for needing weapons, Bonnie brought along Grams and Emily's grimoires just in case, and a minute later sat behind the wheel of her Prius firing up the engine.

"I'm coming, Damon. Just hold on."

Shredded and torn and no, he wasn't talking about his leather jacket or fitted Levi's. His body was one mangled web of awful, but he supposed that was the byproduct of being tossed to his death down a cliff with lots of sharp objects waiting to deliver a killing blow to the back of his skull.

He landed with a rib fracturing, hip displacing, tibia breaking thud on asphalt after rolling several feet only to end up on another deserted road in the middle of nowhere.

Blood erupted from his mouth in a metallic puddle under his chin. He was positive he was blind in one eye, deaf in one ear, and lost several of his long and short term memories to the steep side of the cliff.

Slapping one hand against the road he attempted the impossible by lifting his body from the rocky pavement, but he didn't have any strength and fell right back into a prone position. Shooting pain ricocheted through him, firing like traffic signals.

Lots of people wanted him dead. This came as no terrible surprise. If you knew him for longer than a day, you'd probably want him dead, too. Yet the thing he prided himself on was turning tides in his favor, making an enemy into an ally, and an ally into a friend for life. He had been a little rusty as of late, but Damon Salvatore thought he had been making remarkable strides.

Coughing up more blood and maybe a few ounces of pride, Damon breathed roughly through his nose. He did his best to take an inventory of his injuries.

His knuckles were bruised, bleeding, and swelling. His right ankle was clearly broken because his foot was twisted inward more than it should be. One of his ribs punctured something and he was internally hemorrhaging, and the blood was rushing up his esophagus leading him to vomit it up on the pavement. He wasn't healing and that might have had something to do with that chip they put inside him which dampened his healing abilities. He wasn't sure.

In the distance he heard the squeal of tires as a car or truck came to an abrupt stop. Damon listened carefully and tried to roll over into a nearby patch of bushes to give him more cover. It was night, but he was still too visible for his liking. The moon was basically acting like a spotlight trained on him.

Three car doors opened, only two of them shut. Three pairs of feet stomped along the edge of the road, and bickering voices could be heard.

"You should have staked his ass and then tossed him."

"I couldn't reach the stake, but I got his ring."

Just now realizing his finger felt lighter than usual, Damon slid his left hand into view and cursed belligerently. Oh—they most assuredly was going to pay for fucking with him. As soon as he healed. As soon as he could peel himself off the ground and repay their kindness.

"Sunrise is still three hours off. We can't risk him getting help and bleeding some helpless person dry. I say we go down there and finish him off. He couldn't have gotten far. Not in his condition."

"You positive that doctor pulled off what she was paid to do?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Grab the gasoline and the rope."

Shit, Damon bit down on his lip hard enough to bleed. If only his regeneration wasn't compromised at the moment. He was a literal sitting duck with only a thorny bush as his source of protection. The dark vampire had never been big on prayer or asking any deity for help, but he was willing to toss up a few Hail Mary's for someone, anyone to intervene.

Bonnie is coming. Bonnie will be here, became his mantra. Damon could curse the fact he couldn't give her specifics on his location or who took him. His cell battery only had so much juice left, but he knew she was the most resourceful out of the bunch he grudgingly called friend, and if he had any hope in hell of getting out of this mess she was his savior.

Damon hated he had to ruin her coming home with business as usual. But honestly, it wasn't like he planned to get vampire roofied and dragged to the middle of nowhere just for kicks.

Testing the flexibility in his fingers and toes, Damon wasn't in as much pain as he had been moments ago, but he was still far from being a hundred percent and able to do any significant amount of damage to the three hillbillies currently scaling down the cliff.

Whatever it took, he'd make it up to her.

Her car tires skidded along the asphalt when she braked suddenly. Bonnie had taken the highway leading to Vanceville using only her instincts to direct her because, of course, the locator spell had not given her Damon's exact location.

"This is the spot," she said to her empty vehicle and proceeded to climb out of the car.

The road was perilously dark. The kind of dark that made it hazardous for her to travel without the use of a flashlight or night vision goggles. The kind of dark that gave birth to nightmarish imaginings. Bonnie could hardly make out her hand in front of her face. But she stared up at the moon, now partly covered by clouds.

She stopped walking when she heard the sound of an engine barreling down the road. She shrank against the shoulder, and hunkered down in the event it was just another motorist and not her reinforcements.

The headlights penetrated the darkness giving Bonnie a better idea of her surroundings. Bushes, rocks, and other debris found in nature where it out populated humans. Nothing memorable and quickly forgotten.

The car slowed to a stop and parked directly behind her Prius. She still didn't move from her spot, partially hidden though not extremely well until Bonnie felt it was all right for her to do so.

Car doors on both sides flew open and two men rose. From their silhouettes alone, Bonnie easily identified them. Plus, she'd recognize Stefan's hair anywhere.

She stood to her full height then.

"Bonnie," Stefan jogged over to her. "Are we close to finding my brother?"

She nodded. "He's…" Bonnie looked around seemingly distracted, "somewhere around this area."

"There's not much out here," Enzo, too scoped the area. "Nothing but this highway, the occasional road sign, and vermin."

"Isolated to dump a body," Stefan supplied and cracked his knuckles.

He and Enzo had spent the thankfully short car ride heckling over who would take Damon, rounding out their list of suspects, and disagreeing or agreeing but not really getting any closer to determining the truth. Their only common thread—outside of being vampires, was Damon and for him they managed to put their grievances aside to help Bonnie look for him.

They both locked their gazes on the witch awaiting directions.

"We should continue on foot," Bonnie suggested and began walking.

Stefan and Enzo fell in step behind her and kept quiet utilizing their enhanced senses to sniff out their brother, or the ones who could lead them to him.

The sonata of night serenaded them and Bonnie wanted to tell the crickets and whatever the hell else that scuttled along to shut up. Because of the dark, sound seemed far more amplified than it probably was. She was spooked even with two vampires at her back; Bonnie could say she was a little terrified.

The trio may have walked about a quarter of a mile from their parked vehicles when Bonnie stopped abruptly.

"I can't really tell…but is that a car parked in the middle of the road?"

Stefan strolled a few meters in front of Bonnie, "Yeah. The driver side door is open."

"Human?" Bonnie questioned.

Enzo inhaled deeply. "Three if I'm smelling things correctly. And…one Damon Salvatore. He's the only vampire I know that wears Dior."

"I don't even want to think about how you know that," Stefan twisted to face his adversary.

"Guys," Bonnie said scenting a petty argument on the horizon. "Focus."

"I am…shit!" Stefan exclaimed and then took off.

"What?" the young witch screeched.

"Gasoline…they're planning on torching my old mate."

Damon did his best to will his vampire instincts to take over, to take control. He needed to become a monster of instinct and do what came naturally to him. He needed that base part of him to guarantee he'd make it to the next day.

Fangs cut his gums as they slid from their sheath, and even that made his already burning jaw throb in even more pain.

Ignoring it and trying not to lose consciousness, Damon grunted as quietly as he could when he shifted his body to get a better view of the area behind him. His night vision was defective. He could hardly discern a shadow from a tree.

How had he come to be at such a disadvantage? When would he stop letting a nice pair of legs, blood red pumps, and C-cup boobs distract him?

He could lament about that later. In the privacy of his home—er, Ric's couch. Right now he needed to focus so he could win.

"Stop!" one of the hunters chasing him alerted his two henchmen. "Did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear anything and don't start that shit again. You're always hearing something that turns out to be nothing."

"I swore this time I heard something. Laughter."

"That was probably a coyote, dumbass. Now, move!"

"Coyotes don't laugh. Hyenas laugh. And coyotes don't live in this part of the US."

"Thank you for the unwanted geography and wildlife lesson. Can you all shut up? Your yapping is giving away our location."

Damon rolled his eyes. Their voices weren't the only cues a vampire used to track a human. Scent was a strong indicator of pinpointing prey. They each reeked of stale beer, sweat, and grime.

If he was about to meet his end—which he wasn't—but if he were did it have to be at the hands of The Three Stooges? Couldn't believe he was about to say this, but Damon preferred Jeremy Gilbert to be the one hunting him down. What happened to the hunters that actually made vampires run in the opposite direction? True, Damon had never personally encountered any, but he had heard the stories.

Sliding his right leg up, a needle-like sensation pierced him and white-hot heat licked his icy skin. This shit was hurting too much and he could barely move. All Damon could do was listen as the hunters scaled down the cliff, and once they reached the bottom, he heard gun chambers being cocked.

They might have been less than thirty feet away from his hiding spot. If they drew a little closer without sensing him, he might be able to use the last of his strength locked away in his reserves, and take out the mouthpiece of the trio, drain him, and that should be enough to give him an advantage to finish off the last two.

Bearing in mind he wasn't shot with a .50 caliber wooden bullet.

Trepidation and fear had been replaced with anticipation of the hunt, the kill. Just a little closer and Damon could spring forward and do what he did best.

Just as their boots came into view, they stopped.

"The hell's that?"

"See, I told you I heard someone laughing."

"No…I mean…what the hell is that?"

The bubbling hysteria was easy to identify in the hunter's voice. Damon tried to see what it was that had the hunters seemingly rooted to the spot, but from his vantage point he couldn't see a damned thing. He trained his hearing to the west of him and picked up nothing.

But he sensed something. Damon just had no clue if what he was sensing was good or bad.

"I don't know what that is, but we need to find that sonofabitch vampire, kill his ass, and then get the hell out of here."

Mocking laughter blended in with the wind. Now that Damon definitely heard and if he were honest he'd say it sent a chill down his spine.

There was a stretch of road some twenty miles outside of Mystic Falls that had claimed its share of lives. Damon wasn't exactly sure if this was it, but it could be. The curves were sharp and when the weather was bad, roads were slick, and visibility was terrible; fatal accidents occurred. There had been plenty of ghost encounter stories told by hikers who claimed to have seen or heard a ghost. No one believed them naturally. But no one exactly hung around this area after sunset to validate or discredit those claims.

If that's what had his pursers scared shitless then he'd like to shake the hand of the ghost that chased them off his tail.

"Whoa!" one of the hunters said. "It moved."

"Shit, man it's getting closer!"

"Look, if that asshole isn't dead he will be. We need to get out of here. Now!"

"No, the job isn't done and we don't leave any job unfinished. Pour the gas, cover as much area as you can, light the fuse, and blow the joint."

This is just great, Damon thought bitterly and was almost ready to give himself up. With them distracted it was the perfect time to strike. Pain, broken bones aside, he needed to move and he needed to do it immediately.

Just as Damon materialized from the shadows, one of the hunters suddenly took flight in the air, wailing his arms and legs, screaming for his mama to save him. The other two began randomly shooting their guns at the air, and Damon dove back down when a bullet went whizzing by his ear, actually took a piece of the outer shell with it.

Hissing in pain, he couldn't stop watching the show. Yet another hunter was seemingly plucked like a flower into the air leaving only one, who dropped his automatic weapon and began running for his life.

A body dropped from the sky, missing a head, which landed right in front of Damon's face. The eyeballs and tongue were missing and in the back the vampire's mind he knew that was symbolic of something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what.

Man screams and high pitched squeals and an uncomfortable gurgling noise rent the air and seconds later it became deathly silent.

Swallowing, Damon waited a few minutes before pushing his body to his feet.

Hobbling from the outcrop, grimacing, Damon spotted two more headless bodies. If he were next he needed to get the hell out of dodge. Yet, he couldn't let these bodies go to waste. Blood was his elixir, his Nyquil, his Xanax.

Vamping over to the hunter closest to him, he picked the headless man up, and sank his fangs into a plaid covered shoulder. The blood was still warm but was cooling by the second and most of it had spilled on the road. He may have drunk half a pint, when a silhouette became visible in his peripheral vision.

The body didn't exactly fall out of Damon's hands. He'd use it as a shield if need be because he didn't know what he was dealing with, and he really didn't want to find out the hard way, or just seconds before his death.

His mouth opened to say something witty, like he was only catching a late-night snack and would soon be on his way. The words never made it. They were stuck in the back of his throat caught in a tangled web of blood, and fibers from the hunter's shirt.

Fire burst unexpectedly causing Damon to hiss against its brightness. He shielded his eyes, dropped the body. Damon took two steps and stopped moving altogether because it wasn't just a random fire.

It was a person. Engulfed from head to toe in flames.

Blinking rapidly to see if that might make what he was seeing more real, the confused vampire didn't know what to make of what he was seeing. Logic screamed in his ear to pick up his feet and kick rocks back to civilization. However, his curiosity told him to keep his ass right where it was.

This he had to see.

The body of flames drew closer bringing with it delicious and skin tingling heat. Weather didn't affect vampires either way. They didn't get hot or cold. But he was shivering and that might be a sign he was going into shock, which could happen if the body sustained too much trauma. Damon had blood but not enough to heal his more serious injuries, and they were beginning to take their toll on him.

Damon swayed on his feet, taking care not to add too much pressure on his compromised ankle. His vision dimmed and then resumed, and he winced against the amethyst and bluish-yellow flames that were steadily drawing closer to him.

Feasibly if this thing wanted him dead—he'd be dead. He still had his life although Damon didn't understand why.

Maybe he was being saved for last and like dessert this being wanted to enjoy his death.

"If this makes any difference…thanks for saving my life…although you might be seconds away from ending it. But I'm hoping you're a five-four Bennett who loves her some Damon."

Giggles, the sound of sultry feminine laughter assaulted his ears.

Then suddenly the bodies of the recently deceased went up in flames, their car exploded like a balloon with too much air in a helix of fire and black plumes of smoke.

"My ring!" Damon shouted.

Said ring was chucked at him, struck him dead in the chest and dropped in the palm of his hand.

The being continued on its trek. It now stood only ten feet away from Damon. He had nowhere else to go but up, and up was a long way to go.

The flames burned away leaving behind clouds and whiffs of white billowy smoke.

She emerged, not a hair out of place. Not a scar or burn mark to suggest she had been harmed. Skin the color of spun gold thread, eyes that could rival blades of grass stared owlishly up at him from beneath cheek kissing lashes. That crooked mouth was fixed in a knowing smirk. He looked her over from head to toe. Deceptive perfection that could be distracting stared back at him.

"Bonnie?" ambled stupidly out of Damon's slackened mouth. The world had to be out of warp because this wasn't making sense.

"Are you okay?"

Damon was stupefied. She was in touching distance and he couldn't make himself do it. Touch her to put his racing mind to rest that what he had just been a witness to had actually occurred.

He wasn't given the chance to grill her as he felt two beings approaching him from behind. When he whirled around expecting to be attacked, Damon sighed in relief. It was his brother and the guy who had an unhealthy infatuation with him.

Damon wasn't sure who was responsible for the headless bodies of the wannabe bounty hunters, he was most concerned with Bonnie and the latest trick up her sleeve.

"We need to get you home," Stefan sidled up next to his brother, taking his measure and seeing how bedraggled he was. Ever so slowly he stared at Bonnie, wearily.

Enzo stood some distance away because his self-preservation was petitioning that's exactly what he do.

"Wait," Damon shrugged him off and limped toward Bonnie.

Stefan attempted to reach for him and clutched nothing but air. "Damon…"

"I wouldn't get too close," Enzo advised.

He ignored the warnings and continued forward as if being drawn or invited. Hard to tell which. But Damon knew Bonnie wouldn't hurt him.

Even in the darkness of the night and the highway his mind buzzed with questions as to the step in witch evolution she seemed to have taken. He had never seen her wield that type of power before, and Damon wanted to know the source. What exactly happened to her during those days—to her, weeks to him—they had been separated?

Bonnie placed a finger on his lips. "I know what you're going to ask me, but I don't have an answer. Stefan and Enzo saw you were being surrounded, and when they heard those men were going to douse you with gasoline and light you on fire something inside of me…snapped." She couldn't explain it any better than that at the moment. "We need to get whatever they implanted in you, out of you. Where is it?"

Reaching blindly behind him, Damon scratched the middle of his back. He shed his jacket.

Neither Stefan nor Enzo moved until they received a cue from Bonnie it was all right for them to approach. Bonnie imperceptivity nodded her ascent.

"Hold still," Enzo stepped forward. "This may itch a little," he buried a knife in Damon's back who grunted, rooted around until he found what he was looking for.

"Ouch," Damon growled through clenched teeth and snatched the little device from Enzo.

It was a nondescript microchip that Damon effortlessly destroyed by compressing it between thumb and forefinger.

Their enemies changed each season, but now it appeared they were upgrading the way they dealt with the undead. This wouldn't bode well for any of them.

Damon carefully slid his jacket back on, wincing as he did so. "Let's get out of here."

No one disagreed with his proposal.

The drive back to Whitmore City had been spent in silence. Bonnie could practically hear Damon's questions about the power she conjured, lengths taken to find him and do away with his captors. Yet she had her own questions as well.

Who were those men?

I don't know.

Why were you taken?

I'm a vampire. Someone always has a grudge against me.

What's the last thing you remember?

Sitting at a bar (feeling sorry for myself because despite being happy I'm alive and back with my brother, my life still feels empty, like its missing something or maybe someone) having a bedtime drink.

How did you escape? Where did you escape from?

I don't know, Bonnie. I was knocked out, woke up in some basement or cellar or bomb shelter, fuck I don't know. I got out.

Maybe you were released on purpose. They put a device in you to damper your abilities. It could have been a tracking device as well. Now we'll never know since you destroyed it.

And if it was a tracking device then it's good I did. Could have led them back to where I hang up my leather jacket. If they let me go then why come after me again?

Don't know. Maybe you had help in escaping.

Plausible but we'll never know.

Don't you want to know who did this? You're not the only vampire they can go after. Aren't you curious to find out who they are and how they knew your secret?

Sure I'm curious but at the moment I just want to lie here, sleep this shit off, and…I'm sorry.

Bonnie, who sat next to Damon on her father's favorite sofa, stared at him demurely. "Why are you sorry?"

His legs were stretched out in front of him crossed at the ankles, a glass of scotch in his hand, compliments of a bottle Bonnie had Matt rescue from her house.

Damon blinked to stave off lethargy, but it wasn't working. He knew he wasn't supposed to even be here with Bonnie, but she had driven straight to her new abode, invited him in without the slightest hesitation, and told Stefan she'd take care of him with the authority of a case worker.

His brother hadn't argued. Actually his stupid little lips had twitched, a sure sign he was fighting with everything he possessed not to laugh. It was kind of the unspoken rule that Damon, when he found himself in this type of a situation, would get chewed out. He was long overdue for having someone reduce him to emotional rubble over the choices he made; however, in this case he was a hapless victim of prejudice. That should count for something, right?

Bonnie hadn't given him a tour though Damon tried to distract her with taking one of his own. Moving from room to room, poking his nose in places Bonnie didn't want anyone to see because the house needed some major work done.

What he saw Damon could admit to being mildly impressed but not exactly blown away.

"What color did you think about putting on the walls?" he took a leisurely sip of his drink. His chief injuries had healed themselves. The minor ones for some inexplicable reason were still smarting and not healing.

"Don't change the subject. Damon, what are you sorry about?"

"Where should I start?" he snorted and then looked at her.

Bonnie's viridian irises saw layers in him he thought didn't exist or were so corroded they weren't worth saving or mentioning. She wanted to hear about him and not how her presence in his life changed him. Bad or worse. She'd ingest what he had to say, process it, and make him see a different side of his psyche Damon didn't believe he actually possessed.

He may not have liked it, but it was something he desperately needed, he soon realized.

"I hated myself, Bonnie."—her eyebrows rose as to be expected—"I hated myself because you saved my life, but then you were stuck with Kai. I tried…I tried everything I could think to try to get you back after you sent that note. That note became my entire belief system."

Absorb, Bonnie told herself. His words sealed cracks that had been around for ages. "You came back for me, Damon. You came back because I knew you would. You were responsible for me coming back the first time and I…I never properly thanked you for that."

Damon lifted a shoulder. "I stopped thanking you for all the times you saved me and Stefan…"

"And Elena," Bonnie tacked on softly.

Damon paused before taking another sip but said nothing. "We're even," he muttered almost inaudibly and then cleared his throat. "Tonight…what you did…"

Bonnie flashed a smile, played with her fingers. "I guess you have a way of inspiring me."

Their eyes connected and the atmosphere shifted. The air thickened and the space separating them on the couch shrank though neither one of them actually moved to get closer to the other.

"Inspiring you to activate your magic," Damon's timbre deepened.

"Inspiring me in ways a naysayers words have no effect on me," she held his gaze for a second and rubbed at the goose bumps that suddenly accumulated on her arms. "We can talk about the rest tomorrow. It's late."

Bonnie rose from the couch and started straightening up the living area. Damon sat his unfinished glass of scotch on the floor by his feet.

"I heard your message," he informed while shamelessly looking at her ass. "You wanted me to come to your welcome back from the dead…again non-party."

Going rigid as her cheeks tinted crimson, Bonnie refused to turn and face Damon whom she suspected no longer occupied the couch and was hovering right behind her.

"And I listened to all three messages you left me," she peeked at him over her shoulder.

Damon's right eye crinkled at the corner. "Yeah, can I blame it on pancake withdrawal?"

Laughing lightly, Bonnie punched a pillow and tossed it on the love seat. She picked up its companion that was taken from her hands and thrown to the side. Damon's fingers lingered on her elbow and a current of something passed from his touch and zigzagged unchecked over her entire body.

When Damon inhaled Bonnie felt his knotted stomach right on her back. Those chills she experienced earlier morphed into tremors. This response to his nearness became visceral and potent, more potent than anything Bonnie felt or another being had evoked within her. One side of her wanted to run and hide, deny its existence, while the much more dominate side argued it was time to figure something's out.

What did she want? What was going to be the score of her life?

Four months, probably the longest Damon had spent with anyone not related to him, and with a woman he hadn't been bedding. He questioned what Bonnie was to him and had been incapable of coming up with a suitable answer. Hell, he still didn't really know, but he knew that she was important to him. Stood in a category on her own, and didn't even want to imagine living a life without having some kind of contact with her.

Damon knew he liked her. But…was that all?

"In your last message," Bonnie said, "you were about to say something but you were cut off. Do you remember?"

"Yeah," Damon's fingers moved from her elbow to her wrist, lightly griping it and using that leverage to turn Bonnie to face him. "I was going to tell you that I might…miss you a little bit," he smirked.

"Just a little bit?"

"You know I don't do well when it comes to expressing emotions that go beyond being angry or horny."

Bonnie stared at his hold on her. "What are you feeling right now?"

Damon tipped her chin up. "Grateful."

"How do you plan to show your gratitude?" the words barely passed between Bonnie's lips. Where he touched her, she burned.

"I'm sure I'll think of something."

Chapter end.

A/N: To some, if Damon's dilemma looked familiar it's because it's from my other story Checkmate to which I've deleted because I knew I wasn't going to finish it, and decided that good piece of literature shouldn't go to waste. Still don't know who took Damon or why, but Bonnie has a new talent, and things between those two, well who knows where they may go. How exactly should Damon show his gratitude? Thanks for reading! Looking forward to what you guys have to say.

Special A/N: I've been noticing for months that people haven't been reviewing like they used to when it comes to my stories. I can't speak for other writers besides myself. I've made pleas in the past and afterward have gotten a response, but now I've gotten to the point where I don't think people care anymore. I adore receiving feedback. Other than entertaining you guys completely for free, I love reading what you have to say about these chapters/stories I literally become a slave to. When that fails to happen it hurts my feelings, point blank, and makes me feel like I just wasted my time. So I'm asking, for the amount of work I put in to make these stories as good as I can, please leave me SOMETHING behind. Lets make this a fair and even trade off. Thanks.