A/N: Hey folks, this pretty much picks up where last chapter ended. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Your words of encouragement really helped me through some hardships I've been facing. So thank you so very much! This chapter is long. Hope you enjoy. I'm still technically on hiatus, technically, I was just in the mood to update this.
Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW.
The sense that she was doing something wrong in encouraging Damon to show his gratitude, dropped kicked Bonnie in the stomach. Like the sound of hooves pounding the pavement, an incessant drum beat, uncertainty was making itself known with every precipitous beat of Bonnie's heart.
She swallowed thickly and conducted an inner debate on who Damon was, but most importantly, who he meant to a specific person Bonnie still on a good day called friend. The glacial blues that smoldered intensely while staring at her, not too long ago looked at another woman as deeply and hotly. Elena may have erased her memories of Damon, but he still carried around his memories of her.
Did she want to be in the way of that tsunami?
Inwardly, Bonnie saw herself already stepping aside, fading into the shadows to don her customary robes of sidekick and best friend extraordinaire. It was so easy to go back to the familiar rather than trod down the road less traveled. Be selfish. She saw it unfolding. Saw herself staring coyly at Damon before averting her gaze and putting space between them, feigning disinterest in his zeal to show his appreciation, and promptly showing him to the front door. He wouldn't put up much of a fight, having expected her response to his candor. And she'd go to bed, alone, and not think about what could have happened. Bonnie understood her role by rote and didn't need an understudy. It was five minutes to curtain call and rehearsals were over.
Damon's head tilted to the side in a bird-like manner which made a memory bloom in Bonnie's mind. The bird that flew into her windshield on the first day of her junior year of high school. The crow she sometimes saw in her dreams when Emily used to haunt her.
She and Damon had been connected far longer than she could have known, and until they were sequestered alone, learning their commonalities would have been impossible. Nevertheless, it made sense that in the end it would be the two of them facing the end—together.
That knowledge never made Bonnie feel closer to another person than she felt toward Damon, now.
"You never expected to make it back, did you?" Bonnie asked suddenly.
The question sparked confusion. Damon's eyes widened and then narrowed before his expression became carefully blank. "I don't know what you mean."
"When I touched you to send you back and nothing happened—twice, you didn't look terribly surprised or even angry. Why?"
Licking his lips, Damon took a healthy step away from Bonnie. He hated when she did this. When she asked him questions that made him think. Made him reflect that sooner or later because of all the hell he raised, shit he started, blood he spilled, the universe would finally deliver its biggest "Fuck you!" right to his address.
"No, I never expected to make it out alive. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was hoping for a positive outcome, but I never diluted myself into thinking it would work out for me in the end. It only seemed…fair."
Bonnie nodded reflectively, "You can be a real shitty person…"
"Thanks," Damon deadpanned.
"But even some shitty people who hold on to their guilt, feel remorse shouldn't be exempt from redemption," Bonnie finished. She reached for Damon's hand.
He only expected her to hold it, but once she tugged and started leading the way to the staircase, an irritating flutter of nerves slammed into Damon.
What the fuck? He questioned. His reputation with the ladies was as long as the tax code; so why was he suddenly feeling light-headed like he was about to look at a nudie magazine for the first time?
Trailing soundlessly behind Bonnie as they took the stairs one at a time at a maddeningly slow and deliberate pace, they finally reached the second floor, trekked down a hallway, and stood outside of the master suite.
If he had a pulse his would have been straining the neckline of his T-shirt. Damon opted to keep quiet and let Bonnie lead because he was sure if he made an inappropriate joke it would destroy whatever was unfolding between them.
Just go with it. Drift.
Her warm, tiny fingers tightened around his. Damon returned the squeeze, kept his gaze locked on Bonnie, watching her for the slightest bit of hesitation or reluctance.
Bonnie crossed over the threshold bringing Damon inside her partially furnished bedroom. There were a few boxes stacked in corners waiting for her to do something about them. Overall it was neat, just a bit on the disorderly side.
The walls were devoid of personality or character, painted the usual eggshell white; closed blinds covered the windows, but the obvious focal point was the bed, a light gray platform bed with an upholstered button tufted headboard.
"How do you want me to show my gratitude?" Damon bit into his bottom lip while his gaze wandered over her entire frame. Body part by body part.
Bonnie flushed, "I'm sure that mind of yours has thought of a thousand and one disgusting ways to show your gratitude."
"You know me so well. Wanna hear my least perverted idea?"
"Sure."
"Um," he was caught off guard by her easy willingness to play along. Actions, in this case, would speak louder than words.
Bonnie didn't react when Damon's hands molded to her hips. They never broke eye contact, and the next thing she knew, she was being thrust backwards on the bed.
A yelp of surprise escaped her bowed lips when her back hit the mattress. And before she could admonish him, Damon was climbing up the bed, the movement of his shoulders not much different from a panther on the prowl.
Bonnie's mouth went dry as she pulled herself along the bed until she ran out of room, and smacked into the headboard.
Damon hovered over her, their bodies' alignment making her heart quicken anxiously. Bonnie balled the duvet and sheets in her hands, fighting on whether to push him away or wrap her arms around him. Bring him closer.
The scent of her nervousness was pungent but tasty. Damon unconsciously licked his lips and took in every inch of Bonnie's startled face. From the first time he saw her he saw her beauty, considered her one of the more attractive meals-on-legs in Mystic Falls, but that was as far as it went for Damon. A simple acknowledgement of her hotness.
Now when he looked at Bonnie it was almost like he was trying to convince himself not to get any bright ideas.
His knees burrowed into the pillow top mattress as he bracketed his hands on both sides of Bonnie's head, holding himself aloft.
"You brought me up here, Judgy. What do you want me to do?"
Nibbling a corner of her lip, Bonnie stared at a point over Damon's shoulder. He was just way too close to her. "I don't know."
This seemed like a good idea when she was downstairs, but maybe this was a mistake. She was beginning to crave something from Damon she doubted she could have, guilt-free.
"Well," Damon positioned his knee between Bonnie's splayed thighs. "I do know it's not to talk because we could have continued doing that in your living room on your hard ass couch."
"That couch is not hard. You just have no ass for extra cushion."
Damon grinned annoyingly, "I'd take that as an insult, but I rather gloat about the fact you checked out my ass."
Bonnie rolled her eyes. "And like I said, what ass?"
"I can guarantee it looks better without pants. You have a nice one, by the way."
"Thanks."
"Nice tits, too. Ouch!" Damon rubbed his sore arm after receiving a nice electrical zap.
"Let's get this back on track," Bonnie mischievously blew her fingertips.
Gritting his teeth, the chastened vampire said, "Sure, what would you like?"
"As a show of your gratitude, I want…I want you to tell me one thing about yourself that no one, not even your brother knows."
"Ah, can we go with something else?"
"No. Spill the tea."
Damon lowered his frame to the bed, lying beside Bonnie. She turned her head to regard him. Their legs ended up being entwined but neither seemed to take notice.
It didn't take long for Damon to grow distracted. His hand cupped Bonnie's face mapping the texture and softness of her skin into his memory. Bonnie wanted to do the same but resisted because it seemed too personal a thing to do. Unconsciously she scooted closer until they flirted with cuddling. But Damon took the initiative and pulled Bonnie closer leaving her no choice but to use him as a full body pillow.
Instantly she tensed, not sure where to place her cheek or if she should drape an arm over his abs. This was the closest they'd ever been on a flat surface, and was disconcerting to say the least because lying on a bed with Damon never crossed Bonnie's mind. She wiggled around until she was comfortable, resting her cheek on his peck, draping her arm vertically along his torso.
Vampires were indisputably strong, but being huddled to Damon was almost like snuggling up to a live warm body. Must have been the blood he drank, Bonnie estimated.
"You're not as hard as I thought you'd be," she blurted.
Damon's eyebrow lifted, "Oh, I can be plenty hard. Want a demonstration?"
"Stop being gross. And stop stalling. Tell me one thing about yourself that no one else knows."
"Bonnie, you asking me that is almost the equivalent of asking who really shot JFK. I can't tell you everything about myself. You know a hell of a lot more than most. You should feel privileged."
"Wuss," she chided. "You should also feel privileged. No one knows I had a two-second crush on Klaus."
Damon scrunched his nose in distaste. "I still don't understand how that even happened or when."
Bonnie grinned. "I can't reveal everything about myself."
"Ah, I see what you did there. Won't work though, the reverse psychology."
Bonnie pouted.
Unthinkingly, Damon's hand roamed over her back causing Bonnie to melt at his touch. He was being uncharacteristically chaste. She being the only female he had been around for months, body on an enforced abstinence that it was screaming for a much needed release.
The flaccid muscles in his dick began to contract. He was getting hard and by the second. And just from fucking cuddling? Was he really this pathetic? Or was being around Bonnie just that hypnotic? Damon was willing to settle on the latter. In any case, he did his best not to focus on her warmth, or the way her breasts were crushed against his chest, and he most certainly did not listen to the squishy and mouth-watering pound of her heart.
Drowsiness was chasing after Bonnie and it was being assisted by the soothing circles Damon rubbed on her back. It had been a long night of partying and then coming to the rescue. Yet again. The adrenaline was gone. Her lids drooped, but snapped open when fingers slithered under her shirt and made contact with skin. They were cool, cooler than she was and Bonnie shivered.
Damon's fingers traversed along the ridge of her spine and then expertly unclasped her bra.
Bonnie shifted to get up but Damon tightened his hold. "What are you...?"
"Shush," he interrupted. "I promise to behave myself. Just relax."
Bonnie squinted but simmered down and finally relinquished control. He wouldn't take things too far. He'd know when to stop. Bonnie just hoped the line in the sand wasn't too far down the beach.
Her shirt rolled up her stomach while Damon's hand continued its ministrations. She sighed involuntarily. It had been so long since she was held like this, and yep Bonnie had every intention of eating it up. With the way her life went, who knew when the next quiet moment like this would come.
For Damon though, a moment of panic seized him, and he felt for one dizzying moment that he was being unfaithful to Elena. The rare nights they spent just like this where getting off wasn't the main purpose of them spending time together. But then Damon recalled watching her with that Dr. Kevorkian in the making, kissing him. How easy Elena had forgotten about him and moved on to someone else as if he meant shit to her. Resolved, Damon's irrational feeling of infidelity dissipated; yet something else just as disconcerting arose.
A profound feeling of intimacy; true and unfiltered intimacy.
He was used to being promiscuous, used to having occasional fake girlfriends he didn't give a rat's ass about, and meant nothing when stacked up against the two veritable loves of his life. But this was different. Comfortable in an unsettling way.
Part of him wanted to bolt. Leave a Damon size cutout in the wall, but the second Bonnie slipped her hand underneath his black tee his fear redirected, and in its place, bliss materialized.
Her hand was blazing, and Damon was pretty sure he was coming down with a case of goose bumps. Such a human response to stimuli he hadn't felt in almost two centuries that he sucked in a sharp breath, but tried to play it off as a cough.
Bonnie jumped, "You okay?"
"Super."
They seemed to sink lower, deeper into the mattress. Damon stared over the top of Bonnie's head, listened to her labored breathing. She was almost right on the precipice of unconsciousness. Another minute and she'd be floating away with the Sand Man.
"I miss it," he said.
"Miss what?" Bonnie asked sleepily.
Damon hesitated, fighting against his predilection to lie, and for once be raw and unfailingly open with someone he couldn't compel to forget his secrets.
When he spoke, the words were barely audible and graveled. "I miss being human."
Bonnie was wide awake now. She moved to sit up and Damon let her. He needed the space anyways because emotions he refused to feel like: vulnerability and hate toward his own pugnacious past were clogging his throat, and tying his stomach and ribs into knots. He shut his eyes, unable to look at Bonnie as he cracked open his vault. The prospect was terrifying to Damon.
Bonnie was damn near breathless. "You miss being human?"
Damon nodded his head against the pillow. "Don't misunderstand, I still love the fuck out of being a vampire, but…there are moments where I'm tired of being this…statue. My thoughts, my wants, my behavior there's hardly been any change. I'm always moving, but inside I'm as complacent as the day I was turned. The world advances and you stay still even if you adapt to those changes. You make acquaintances and then they die, but not without spinning one lie after another so they can never know who you truly are, what you truly are. It's lonely as hell being a vampire.
"Your humanity bleeds out of you, but you look for it in people, places, things, but it wars with this viciousness within you that just wants to destroy everything that crosses into its path. Miracles become meaningless. You're a sad story cloaked in pretty, indestructible skin, but you're as disconnected as a god trying to understand mortality."
Damon felt it safe to open his eyes and when he did, Bonnie was staring at him in quiet astonishment.
He swallowed audibly, "The reason I miss being human has nothing to do with starting a family or growing old, but because somewhere along the line I sold out my soul. Things my kind finds as a weakness: compassion, kindness, honesty, trust, humans see as strengths, and being without those things makes you nothing. And I'm tired of being nothing, Bonnie.
"So there. You know something about me no one else knows."
The silence was deafening. Moisture gathered in Bonnie's eyes to which she quickly blinked away. Even Damon's eyes had glassed over, but neither one of them actually shed a tear.
Bonnie smiled poignantly. "You're not nothing, Damon. Misguided at times, yes. You're like Tin Man looking for a heart when really you already have one. You've always had one."
"That's debatable," he ruled.
Shaking her head, Bonnie scooted closer to Damon. "You buried it under some pretense of what it means to be a vampire. A vampire can encompass traits that makes a human, human, but I get it's something that has to be worked at. Worked for. I believe you can and you have."
She traced the shape of his jaw, leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose.
A bemused expression crossed his face and before he knew it, Damon's hand was massaging the back of Bonnie's neck. Fingers raking through her soft hair.
"Like I told you before…there's hope for you, Damon. And you do have a soul. I've seen it. In the way you fight, in the way you…love. When you made those deals to bring me back. If you didn't have a soul, you wouldn't have lifted a finger to try." Pause. "Your secret is safe with me," Bonnie vowed quietly.
"And so is yours."
"What secret? The Klaus thing?"
"No…that you like me," and of course Damon had to widen his eyes when he emphasized the word 'like'.
She easily could have thrown out a snarky reply, but instead Bonnie said, "That's not debatable. I do. I do like you, Damon. More than you know."
She looked so peaceful in her sleep. Young, relaxed, without a care in the world. Tucking a few errant strands of hair behind her ear, Damon gently outlined the shape of Bonnie's lips with the pad of his thumb. He shared a huge secret with her and now he was feeling out of sorts, worried about her perception of him. They had their own paradigm he enjoyed, and one Damon wasn't ready for it to change.
Perhaps he was getting too far ahead of himself.
In any case, he carefully pried Bonnie's arm off his waist, slid his legs from hers, and got out of bed in search of his boots. It would be best if he left now to avoid any morning after awkwardness.
That's what he told himself as he went to do what only Damon Salvatore could do when he was feeling…abnormal.
Bonnie's eyelids fluttered open an hour later. She stretched her arms above her head, pointed her toes, and whipped her head to the empty space beside her.
Sitting up abruptly caused a severe blood rush. "Damon?" she called his name already knowing he wouldn't answer because he wasn't there.
Gathering the sheets up to her chin, Bonnie frowned as chilling emptiness filled her from top to bottom.
He could have at least stayed for a cup of coffee.
The rustling of bed linens and a deep, male sigh made the only sounds apart from the occasional groan or creak of the walls of the homey apartment. Rolling over on his back, Alaric Saltzman was jolted awake at the sound of something banging on his front door.
"The fu—," he reached awkwardly for his watch to gleam the time. It was barely seven a.m. On a Sunday!
Letting out a slew of expletives, Alaric threw off the covers, thrust his arms into an undershirt and made his way to the foyer.
"All right, I'm coming!" he bellowed over the constant pounding on his door.
He wasn't surprised but was definitely annoyed with who was dirtying up his non-existent welcome mat. Frowning severely, Alaric growled in a sleep-ridden voice, "What the hell do you want, Damon?"
The dark and lean vampire smiled without showing a hint of teeth. He was too bright for Alaric to stare at which only deepened his irritation.
"I know I'm not interrupting anything," Damon said and barged his way inside.
"No, please come in," Alaric griped and slammed the door close. "Seriously, Damon what are you doing here before fucking dawn?"
The two men faced one another, Damon with one hand behind his back, Alaric with both perched on his hips.
"I'm here to talk about your girlfriend of all of two minutes."
Alaric blinked and then rubbed his left eye. "Jo? What about Jo?"
"Based on the fact you weren't part of my rescue committee the other night, you have no idea I was kidnapped."
"Okay, you're taken like every other day. So I'm not following what Jo has to do with any of this."
"Thanks for the concern."
Alaric snorted. "You're still standing and breathing which means you're all right. What do you want a 'get well' balloon? A teddy bear?"
The words 'teddy bear' made Damon think of Ms. Cuddles. He shook the thought loose.
Damon began heading toward Alaric who stood straighter, and forced the last visages of sleep from his brain. It was always best to be on alert when dealing with Damon especially after he suffered some kind of attack or rejection.
Alaric could say that glint in Damon's eye—he had been on the receiving end of it plenty of times, and what came afterward usually ended with his neck broken in several places. The newbie Original would like to think he and Damon had finally had a breakthrough, and were past the petty stage of their bromance. Yet one could never be too sure which way the wind blew with Damon. He blew hot, he blew cold, or he simply blew up.
"One of my kidnappers said something about a doctor doing something to incapacitate me, I'm assuming, and they also gave away the sex of the doctor, but of course no name," Damon pulled his hand from behind his back revealing a manila folder. He flipped it open.
"Is that Jo's file?" Alaric asked, incredulous. "You stole her work file?"
Damon ignored the query. "Did you know that your lady doctor friend only began working at Mystic Falls Hospital Center the day before I sent the Travelers into a fiery rapture?"
No, Alaric could say he did not know that, but again, what did that have to do with anything? "I'm not seeing your point. I'm seeing a coincidence, Damon, but nothing more than that. If you're suggesting Jo is a Traveler, that she was involved in some plot to kidnap and kill you, what would be her motive?"
"Outside of revenge you mean? Did you also know she worked as a consultant for a medical technology company, and what do you know," he said facetiously, "a chip of some kind of had been implanted in my back, but has since been removed," Damon snapped Jo's personnel file closed, and dug the pointy end into Alaric's chest. "How well do you know this woman?"
Alaric snatched Jo's file but refused to open it and leaf through its contents seeing it as a total invasion of her privacy, not to mention illegal. "Jo isn't a Traveler," he said definitively and despite his own misgivings.
A memory pounced on Alaric. He remembered when he tried to compel Jo and it didn't work. At the time, Alaric chalked it up to the fact he was hungry and it may have weakened his compulsion, but even that reason seemed hollow.
"She's not," he reiterated, stepped around Damon, and entered his kitchen where he slapped the file on the counter.
"Then consider this eliminating the possibilities. Look, I understand you're right there on the verge of going to second base with the chick, but just remember, new faces popping up in Mystic Falls hardly translates into anything good," Damon asserted.
Alaric stared at Damon not liking but not necessarily disagreeing with his assumption.
"If I find out she had anything to do with what happened to me…well you know what I'll have to do."
"Damon!" Alaric barked. "Let me look into this, all right?"
The black-haired vampire shook his head. "You're too soft, Ric. But, she is your girlfriend," he couldn't keep a straight face. "If anything alarming pops up on her, I want to be the first to know." Damon sauntered to the front door, but paused. "Oh, and don't forget, I really suck at having patience."
Damon flounced out of the apartment with a wink.
Grounding his back molars on top of one another, Alaric eyed the file contemptuously. He really hoped Jo had nothing to do with Damon's kidnapping; that she hadn't come to Mystic Falls with ulterior motives. For once, it would be nice if he could meet a brunette who didn't have any kind of fixation with his friend.
Stefan Salvatore picked at the label on his beer bottle. In his periphery he saw a trio of girls—well young woman probably in their early twenties—whispering conspiratorially to one another, giggling, and doing very little to hide their attraction to him. It would be so easy to get off his ass, approach them, engage in a little friendly chit chat and then pick one to feed on.
He wasn't in the mood.
His thoughts were a quagmire changing shape before he could even make one cohesive.
They had no answers, no real place to start to gleam answers to Damon's kidnapping. The lone piece of evidence they did have was promptly destroyed once removed from Damon's back. A chip.
Dealing with monsters in the form of werewolves, Originals, hybrids was routine. They knew how to handle it or learned by trial and error. This time around, the stakes had risen without their knowledge. Who was their enemy, and what new toys had been created to wipe their kind off the face of the earth? Stefan found no point in asking why. The answer was more than apparent on top of being unsettling and fucking annoying to have earned yet another enemy.
Stefan took a sip of his beer, pulled his lips back from his teeth as the acrid beverage hit the back of his throat.
The teeth-grinding sound of chair legs scraping along the hardwood floor drew Stefan's attention. His eyebrows kissed his hairline. "Bonnie! Hey."
"Hey, mind if I sit with you for a bit? I'm supposed to be meeting Caroline and Elena for lunch, but I'm early. How you been?"
Stefan nodded absently. "Good. What about you?"
That question was a bit tough for Bonnie to answer. Part of her was feeling pretty good, but another part of her was annoyed. She told herself, numerously, her funky mood had little to do with the fact she woke up alone the morning after spending the night with Damon. And the fact two days had passed and she still hadn't heard from him. No, that wasn't the reason why she had to concentrate extra hard not to set something ablaze.
Instead, she beamed at Stefan. "I'm all right."
"Here let me buy you a drink."
"Oh, Stefan you don't have to."
He waved her declination away and called for the bartender. When the gangly man arrived, leering at Bonnie, Stefan loudly cleared his throat.
"Sorry," the barkeep shrugged sheepishly. "What can I get for you?"
Ensnaring the bartender until his eyes became opaque, Stefan said, "I'll defer to her. Make her whatever she wants."
"Can I get an appletini?"
"Coming right up."
"Thank you," Bonnie said to Stefan who turned his body toward her.
"You're welcome, and it's the least I can do." A beat. "Are you sure you're okay? The other night…"
Bonnie shook her head. She was perfectly aware of what happened, what she did. She just straddled the fence on whether she was ready to talk about it.
"The other night was…I can't even wrap my head around it. I don't know how I did it."
The younger Salvatore's lips pulled down at the corners, "You haven't checked your grimoire?"
"No. I know I need to."
"It was like you tapped into some higher level of consciousness with your magic."
"That's one way of putting it," Bonnie scratched behind her ear. "Magic can make you feel as if you hold the key to life and death right in the palm of your hand. It's an exhilarating feeling, but also dangerous."
Stefan nodded in understanding. Bonnie's natural proclivity for magic hardly differed from how he felt as a vampire. Most days, he could feel as powerful as a god; others—as weak as a sapling.
Sitting beside Stefan caused Bonnie to replay snippets of her conversation with Damon. The younger Salvatore never made it any secret how much he missed being human whereas his older sibling shunned the very thought of humanity like a genetic disease. Now knowing what she knew, it confused but fascinated Bonnie how similar, but still startlingly different the Salvatore brothers were.
She opened her mouth to say something, but was distracted. She chuckled, "I don't think your groupies are so happy that I'm hogging all of your attention," she motioned with her head towards the ladies who had been eyeing Stefan since his arrival.
He stared at them over Bonnie's head noticing their smiles and giggles had been replaced with eye rolls and pursed lips.
Stefan bumped his shoulder with Bonnie's, and upped the ante by leaning over and kissing her cheek.
Caroline, with Elena bringing up the rear entered the bar at that precise moment. She was smiling at something Elena said, but her smile slowly faded when she spied Stefan and Bonnie at the bar. That was nothing unusual except for the fact Stefan's lips were drooling on Bonnie's cheek. An uncomfortable heat rush up her spine.
Bonnie gently pushed Stefan away, a coy smile gracing her face. "Behave yourself, Salvatore. I'm not in the mood to defend myself against edge snatchers tonight."
Stefan laughed. "You can so totally take the one on the end."
Elena having caught on to what seized Caroline's attention, took in the sight. She brought her umber eyes to Caroline who began to look forlorn.
The doppelganger carefully nudged her friend forward to an empty table.
Bonnie's drink arrived and after thanking the bartender, she sipped it leisurely. "I think I just found my next favorite thing."
"Good, I'm glad you like it. Hey, have you seen or heard from Damon since the other night?"
Bonnie's stomach bottomed out. "No, I haven't. Have you seen him? I think he's avoiding me."
Several horizontal lines appeared over the caramel-haired vampire's forehead, "Yeah, I saw him this morning. Why would Damon be avoiding you?"
"I don't know."
"He's an enigma that's for sure but…I've noticed he's different with you, Bonnie. He always has been."
"Oh, I could tell," she replied flippantly and ignored the strange fluttering in her stomach. "What, with his insults, put downs, mockery, threats, and indifference, oh yeah I'm his fave."
Stefan guffawed. He had seen evidence of Damon's care for Bonnie. In small but no less significant instances that added up to something big and telling. Stefan thought of the time Damon quickly volunteered to come home when he was told Silas was impersonating Professor Atticus Shane to manipulate Bonnie to complete the Expression triangle. Or the time Damon stayed behind on the island to look for Bonnie instead of rushing off to be a shoulder of support to Elena—his quasi girlfriend at the time after Jeremy had been killed. Stefan saw it in Damon's pinched expression as he debriefed him on his plane ride with Bonnie who had gone on and on about bringing Jeremy back from the dead. How quickly Damon was the one to formulate a plan to resurrect her the first time. The signs were there that Damon cared for the young woman, but would remove your heart from your chest to suggest that to his face.
If there had been any lingering doubts they were removed as Stefan had watched his brother pour through books, staying up for days on end drinking only enough blood to remain lucid, jet-setting from coast to the coast searching out a way to bring Bonnie home. A person only moved heaven and hell for someone important to them. And not once did Stefan ever degrade Damon by saying he was doing all he could to impress Elena, make her fall in love with him again. Damon deserved far more credit than merely trying to improve the public's opinion about him.
He did it because his heart wanted to.
It wasn't until last night, in seeing the scary and remarkable way Bonnie dealt with Damon's captors, and the worry marring her features once his brother was back in their custody, did it solidify Stefan's speculation.
This care went both ways. If this would lead to anything remained to be seen, but Stefan knew his brother, knew his patterns, behaviors. This was always the starting point. A main part of Damon's seduction technique usually began with saving a woman's life. After endangering it, of course, but that wasn't the point. Stefan just hoped that before Damon consciously or unconsciously did anything concerning Bonnie, he would settle his feelings with Elena once and for all. Having a third party in a two party relationship never worked out for anyone. He would know.
Stefan sensed that the rest of Bonnie's eating companions had arrived. He rose from the barstool, but absorbed the young witch's interpretation of his brother's treatment toward her.
"My brother insults, mocks, puts down a lot of people, but he only moves heaven and hell for a very select few and those few…he sees can hurt him the most if he allows it. You're far more important to him than even he knows."
"What?!" Bonnie blurted. She heard Stefan plain as day, but what he said had been too similar to what she said to Damon the other night.
Inquisitively, Stefan hitched a brow at Bonnie's perturbed expression. "I know it's a scary concept to think Damon values anyone…it does happen. For too long now he's just been obsessed with obtaining the wrong form of validation. Maybe someone will come along and shed a light on what he needs," he squeezed her shoulder. "Caroline and Elena are here."
"O-kay," Bonnie stammered. "I guess I should…yeah. I'll see you later, Stefan."
Bonnie quickly scurried off to her friends not really paying attention to the fact their smiles were as fake as silicon breasts, and their 'hellos' were as warm as Antarctica during the summer.
The witch's proclamation had played itself on a continuous loop inside Damon's head, and repeatedly he told himself not to put too much meaning into it.
But he couldn't. So he did what he did best. He ran. Once Bonnie passed out, he abandoned ship and headed for the hills. And had been avoiding her ever since. Well now he unwittingly ended up in the exact bar where she sat at a table breaking bread with her two childhood friends.
Spectacular timing on his part.
Since he already ran like a raccoon scenting fresh garbage, Damon pulled up his britches and made himself quite at home on the barstool. He wouldn't admit to feeling any kind of tension blanketing the room the second he and Bonnie locked gazes. But he knew it was there, could practically sink his teeth into it.
Damon plainly read her displeasure and smoldering condemnation for leaving her to warm that great bed of hers alone, but in his defense it needed to be done. Nonetheless, Damon had nodded and promptly turned his attention to the bottles of liquor that would eventually mingle in his vampire belly.
However, Bonnie wouldn't be so easily ignored.
The hairs on Damon's bare arms rose as if he were a conduit for static electricity. He snapped his head to glare at her, and she winked in return.
Snorting, Damon went back to his drink. Was this foreplay?
Matters weren't helped much since Elena was also there, and the two of them had had zero contact. At this point, Damon wasn't even sure if he had the stomach or energy to try to convince Elena to give their doomed relationship another chance. Would it only end up being more of the same? Or could they start fresh and hit the right stride this time?
Those would be easy enough questions to answer if she hadn't taken the cowardly route and had her memories obliterated.
It wasn't until he was on his death bed where Elena admitted to liking him just the way he was. And there he'd lain on another bed, this time with a witch who easily expressed liking him. More than he knew? What did that even mean? More importantly, why did he even care to want to know what it meant?
Because it came from someone who didn't have Katherine's face. Because it came from someone I view as a friend, Damon thought gloomily. Now sitting some distance away was the woman of his rumination and the leader of his ruination, and Damon couldn't even decide which girl he meant for either category.
He laughed tiredly to himself as he sipped his drink.
Both Elena and Bonnie were hip to Damon's presence, wasn't hard to miss him hunched over at the bar, his back to them. However, Elena was the one to get out of her seat and trek across the restaurant to the bar.
"I'll be back," she said to Caroline and Bonnie over her shoulder.
Damon glanced behind him. He tried not to let his disappointment show too much.
After realizing her eyes were squinting, Bonnie shook herself out of it and returned to eating.
"So," Caroline couldn't hold it in any longer, "how's Stefan?"
She hated that small pinch of insecurity she experienced earlier in seeing her best friend share camaraderie with Stefan who, she was more than aware could talk to whomever he liked. Regardless it sent Caroline hurtling back to her pre-vampire days where getting a guy to choose her over Elena was a morning, noon, and night hustle. She didn't want those feelings to transfer over to Bonnie.
Bonnie knew the question had been coming. Could see Caroline almost going blue—a true feat in her case, in keeping her mouth shut. Yet Caroline's chief concern wasn't on Stefan's present state of mind. Bonnie was cognizant of that as well.
"He's fine. If you miss talking to him, Care you know what you can do to rectify that. Until you do, I won't be playing middle man."
Across the restaurant, Elena slid on unoccupied barstool next to Damon, "Hey," she began nervously. "How've you been?"
"Kosher. And yourself?"
Elena bobbed her little doppelganger head. "Great. Um…so…I haven't seen you around…much. I noticed you weren't at Bonnie's 'Welcome Back—Again' party," she laughed blithely, hoping to lighten the noxious mood surrounding her ex.
"I was out keeping some hillbillies entertained," Damon liked to operate on the less is more side when it came to telling the truth.
"And that took precedence over Bonnie? Wait…" she gasped, "have we had this kind of conversation before? Where you were doing something else while we all got together…"
"Look," Damon stared her down then, "Elena as much as I would typically enjoy taking a trip down dysfunctional memory lane, how 'bout you save us both the grief, and get the highlights from someone willing to give your ass their undivided attention."—Elena blinked, hard—"I know you're just over here to make nice and have small talk while I get drunk, and regale you with a list of your non-existent virtues," he exhaled harshly. "Immortality notwithstanding, I just don't have that kind of time. Now, run along. Your food's getting cold."
Stunned, Elena automatically slid of the stool and traipsed back the way she came. Rejection, certainly not something she was accustomed to feeling; and Elena could say it was a humiliating feeling.
Bonnie stifled her giggles.
Chapter end.
A/N: So how bout this chapter? Bamon divulging trade secrets, well more so Damon, but hey he told his secret to the one who matters most, imo, outside of Stefan of course. I did want to incorporate a Defan scene, but I can save that for later. From here on out I won't be following the show's SL, so there won't be any Gemini coven business. It'll be all original or as close to original plot from here on out, but I will probably use key dialogue from the show if it's fitting. Thanks for reading, kittens. Any feedback you want to submit would be more than appreciated.