A/N: It's me back with another one. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, PM'd me! They've really helped in pushing me forward in finishing what I started. Here is the latest. Enjoy.

Good natured chattering could be heard amid classic Christmas songs. If there was one thing Caroline Forbes was good at it was setting the stage for a party. Platters over brimmed with delights, glasses were topped off with imported wine and champagne that Stefan was generous enough to procure. Candles flickered, a fire roared in the hearth, and invitees milled around nibbling hor d'oeuvres under fairy lights with the thick scent of fresh poinsettias perfuming the air.

Elena fussed with the gift bag and purse on her arm as she knocked on the Forbes' cabin door. Tyler opened it, his eyes going a bit wide. For a minute he thought he was looking at Katherine Pierce. But it was the demure way Elena reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear just to remember she pinned it all up, that made Tyler relax somewhat.

"Hey, you made it."

"Yeah."

"Come in. Everyone is just about here. Let me take your coat."

"Thanks," Elena shuffled her bags, shrugged off her coat revealing the plum sheath underneath. She decided to do away with tradition in donning red figuring most attending Caroline's holiday soiree would be wearing some variation of the color. She had a mission tonight to stand out, stand apart from the Elena of old. She handed Tyler her coat, and secretly beamed with glee at the appreciative look that came into his dark brown eyes.

"Elena!" Caroline screamed her name from across the room prompting everyone to turn in her direction.

Eyebrows lifted, and the doppelganger couldn't feel more like a bug stuck beneath a microscope. She straightened her shoulders, ran a hand across the bodice of her dress. Her umber irises took inventory of who was here, and squelched her disappointment that Damon wasn't among the attendees so far.

Caroline ambled toward her friend, enveloping Elena in a hug then held her at arm's length, nodding in approval at her attire. She had picked that dress out for her ages ago. "Hoping to get laid tonight?" Caroline grinned knowingly.

That hadn't been Elena's exact objective, but she wouldn't fight it. "Not really, but anything can happen, right?"

Raising her voice so the others could hear, Caroline bellowed, "Just a fair warning, there's mistletoe everywhere. Be mindful where you stand and who you stand next to. Carry on."

Several pairs of eyes lifted heavenward. Matt and Tyler groaned seeing they were standing under a sprig of that poisonous flower.

"Put one right here," Tyler tapped his cheek.

"Nah, rather not make your date jealous," Matt lifted his cup at Liv.

Looping their arms together, Caroline hauled Elena into the living room, stopping periodically so she could say hello. Elena was introduced to Quinn, Luke's boyfriend who could pass as Paul Walker's twin to which she gave Luke a discreet thumbs up. The leggy Petrova dropped her gift bag at the Christmas tree, nudging it underneath with her foot. Caroline let the brunette go once they made it to the refreshments table.

"So," Caroline plucked a cotton candy grape from the vine and popped it in her mouth, "are they back?"

Elena could play dumb and coy but opted for honestly. She did stall by moving down the table, breezing over the assortment of holiday themed treats, but settled with a flute of pink champagne. Licking bubbly residue from her lips, she nodded.

It had been a grueling six-hour session with Alaric, but finally her memories jettisoned, filling in the empty crevices in her brain.

"I remember every argument, every kiss, every time he said my name, pissed me off, made me so ridiculously happy, hurt my feelings…I remember all of it, Caroline," she picked absently at her cuticle. "But I also remember what he said to me before my session with Ric."

"Which was?"

Elena shook her head. She didn't want to have that conversation here knowing several people were trying to inconspicuously eavesdrop. "It doesn't matter because I know Damon. He can't just walk away when he knows something's real."

They were doing the opposite of getting ready for Caroline's party. Damon sat on the edge of the bed in the semi-darkened bedroom listening to the creak of the floor and ceiling while Bonnie moved around. He thought her idea of mood music would be ballads sung by the likes of Taylor Swift, but his ears and inner beast were soothed by the crooning voice of Eddie Kendricks. His record, from her father's collection, played on the vintage record player propped in a corner.

She appeared in the threshold as if he conjured her. She wore nothing but her bra and panties, freshly showered, but she shouldn't have bothered.

Dainty feet carried her to Damon who spread his legs wider so she could stand in between them. Her hands shaped his face, tracing the faint lines that became prominent when he smiled. Those imperfections made her think of rings in a tree marking its age. Damon was immortal and biologically frozen; however, the things he had gone through had left their indelible impression by carving into his chiseled features like a sculptor with an impeccable eye for detail.

She mapped the shape and length of his dark brows, fanned over his enviable long lashes, his cheekbones. Bonnie couldn't decide which of his features she liked the best. Everything individually was masterfully crafted, but put all together, and it could be too much to handle at once.

Damon's lips parted as Bonnie traced them. His breath rushed out rippling across her fingers. Fingers she buried in his hair, addicted to its fullness and texture. Only a few times had she touched genuine silk. Damon's hair was softer than that.

He drew her forward, warm mouth exploring her belly, fingers weaving under the elastic band of her panties. Damon tongued the raised scar right beneath her sternum. Her belly caved in as if trying to dodge. His jaw tightened in memory of that fucking arrow piercing her flesh, hitting who knew what vital organ. He should have been more careful in removing it, but his one thought was to get it out and get his blood into her as soon as possible.

"Why'd you send me back?" Damon asked the question that had long since bothered him. "Why would you send me back and sacrifice yourself like that?"

The abrupt and slightly accusing question killed the mood for Bonnie somewhat. At first she had no idea what Damon was talking about, and then she got it. "I don't know. It's my knee-jerk reaction to save the person next to me and not myself."

They would have to change that. "Don't you value your life?"

"I do now. Hard to value something when those around you, in their own way, made you feel it didn't matter as much as others, and you start believing your only purpose is to die."

Damon swallowed. "I'm sorry for being one of those people who made you feel that way. I'm sorry for the way I treated you in the past."

The sincerity of Damon's apology settled in Bonnie's core. She stroked his jaw.

Never again, he vowed as his mouth inched closer to the underside of her breasts. Never again would anything—himself included—harm her.

She was so soft, so young, supple and beautiful that before their paradigm changed, Damon found himself inexplicably transfixed and unable to look away from Bonnie at the oddest of times. That day at the Grill where she informed him she could start fires with her mind. At Richard Lockwood's repast. Standing on the Gilbert porch having a confab with Klaus the morning after the 20's decade dance. He didn't believe in crushes. They were time consuming and got you nowhere. If you liked someone, according to Damon, you went out and got them. That had been his ideology; so he couldn't outright say he always felt something for Bonnie brought on by her aesthetics. You could find someone attractive and not want to have anything to do with them. Damon was disappointed in himself that it took so long to see.

He gazed up at Bonnie thinking about giving her head. She looked down at him, the light from the lamp casting her visage into haunting shadows that made him rock hard in an instant. Damon swelled between his thighs, and his pulse drummed in time with the potent release of Bonnie's fragrant arousal.

Words weren't necessary to convey what they wanted. Her panties hit the floor. Bonnie kicked them away while Damon lied flat on the mattress, pulling her on top of him. She shimmied until her knees were positioned on both sides of his head. She lowered her pelvis until she was nearly in a split, moaned when a nice, moist tongue lapped at the hood of her clit, hissed when he spanked her ass.

They would be a little late, but who showed up on time for a party?

Two hours later, carrying two boxes, one containing raspberry cheesecake, the other cherry that she baked herself, Bonnie Bennett watched where she stepped. It was hard navigating the uneven terrain in four-inch heels, yet you couldn't wipe the smile off her face if you paid her.

Damon was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Maybe it was novelty or a compulsion, but whatever the case, he couldn't resist touching Bonnie.

It dawned on Damon that for the next three hours or so he wouldn't have the freedom to grab her hand, or brush her cheek, or taste her lips without incurring a lot of questions and hypocrisy. He hated to sound like a junkie but he needed a fix.

"Hold up a second?" an idea brightening in Damon's brain.

"Is something wrong? We're already running late."

"A few more minutes won't hurt anything."

Bonnie jutted out a hip, "Have you forgotten who's organized this party? I could really do without a lecture from Caroline. I love her, but that voice when she's pissed, I rather scratch my eardrum with a knife then listen to her mouth."

Damon smothered a chuckle. "Be that as it may, you mean to tell me you're prepared to go in there and not touch me for the next several hours?" he arched a dark brow.

Bonnie shook her head. "We have sex once…"

"Twice. Well, technically four times, but who's counting?"

"And now all of a sudden I can't control myself. I think I will manage, Damon."

She turned to keep walking, but Damon intercepted her path. "Humor me. Someone very specific is standing on the other side of that door. It will be weird."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, Damon."

Bonnie understood what was at stake here. She didn't have delusions of grandeur about this strange, unspoken triangle. Elena may have fallen in love with Stefan first, and showed some mild jealously when her ex and Caroline started growing closer, she didn't exactly lose her mind quite the way she did with Damon. Everything between the two of them had been dialed to eleven. Therefore, Bonnie knew that once the truth came out, Elena was not going to take it lightly or easily.

For the time being, Bonnie was more than happy to keep the new developments of her relationship with Damon from public consumption and opinion. The green-eyed witch refused to think of it as hiding, but protecting something that was more fragile than the wing of a baby bird.

"Do I have anything to be worried about?" she looked at Damon searchingly.

"Not on my end."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Bonnie, I meant what I said to you this morning. I want you."

"Then I'm willing to believe you."

They were once again on the move to the front door. Damon said glibly, "Now, if the two of you decide to scrap over little old moi, I'm totally prepared to hold your earrings."

"Ass."

Bonnie was swung around, and a pair of lips crashed on hers. She moaned instantly. She almost dropped the pies to wind her arms around Damon's neck. Her cunt clenched excitedly. A full minute passed before Damon let her come up for air.

"I figured I might as well do that now instead of waiting until later," Damon licked the artificially sweet taste of her lip gloss from his smirking mouth.

Dazed and horny, Bonnie cleared her throat. "When we get home?"

He loved the sound of that. However, that seemed too far from now. "I can't promise you I'll be a good boy until then."

Saucily, Bonnie suggested, "Don't be."

They slipped inside the cabin. Damon helped Bonnie with her coat. An unintentional groan escaped as Damon admired Bonnie. Dressed in an amethyst suit sans bra or shirt, very risqué for the often low maintenance witch, she looked more like an entrepreneur about to engage in a hostile takeover, but she also appeared soft and whimsical. Double sided tape made sure the lapels of her blazer never revealed more than a hint of delectable cleavage.

Ogling Bonnie in that suit enabled fantasies to float through Damon's head.

"Dammit, I forgot the gifts. I'll be back," he had to stop himself from leaning down to kiss her cheek, more than aware of the curious onlookers who threw them curious glances.

"All right," Bonnie replied and watched him slip out the door. "Hey everyone!" she greeted the others and received warm welcome in return.

Caroline relieved her of the desserts she brought, cursed they didn't wear the same size clothes otherwise she'd snatch Bonnie's suit right off her back, and quickly left the sorceress to her own devices.

"Where did my brother run off to?" Stefan approached Bonnie.

"He forgot the gifts for the exchange in the car."

Stefan fought valiantly not to stare at the fact she wasn't wearing a bra or shirt beneath her fitted blazer. It was hard not to so he focused on the roundness of her face cupped by her wavy tresses, the fullness of her lips, and how her avocado eyes popped.

"Wow, why am I just now noticing how hot you are?"

Bonnie flushed a little. "I don't know, Stefan. I'm not your eyeballs."

Stefan peeped her neck, head cocked to the side. The necklace she was wearing to his eyes and whoever else took a peek was of a silver lizard curled around her neck. Bonnie caught him staring, swallowed and wondered if her glamour was holding. Stefan shook his head and offered Bonnie a smile.

"What's there to eat?" she inquired.

"What's not to eat?" Stefan snorted. "I'm surprised there's not a pig roasting on a spit in the backyard."

"I actually had to talk Caroline out of getting one."

"She does like being…thorough, doesn't she," and there was a definite twinkle in the younger Salvatore's eye and affection in his voice.

"Just ask her out already, you dweeb," Bonnie resisted pushing him. "You two might be immortal, but you aren't getting any younger. We'll be facing whitewalkers before you get up the nerve to ask her out."

"Good one," Stefan's cheeks darkened with embarrassment. He veered topics. "Have you spoken with my brother about what we discussed when you and I had coffee the other day?"

Bonnie nodded and shuffled to the food that was calling her name. "There's been another development, but I'll tell you about that later."

Just then Elena approached and wrapped her arms around Bonnie's shoulders. The petite witch jumped at the unanticipated contact and, for a second worried if Elena might smell Damon on her, and try to choke her out. But the doppelganger kissed Bonnie's cheek, said she was happy to see her. Bonnie told herself to relax yet she was finding it hard to do.

The two friends turned to regard one another. "You look amazing, Bon."

"You, too. You seem…happy."

Elena bobbed her head, cheesing like a kid that knew she was getting her ultimate wish for Christmas. "I am. So…um…did you come as Damon's date?" the question was asked with an air of lightness but she knew better.

Well that didn't take long, Bonnie sighed inwardly. Every fiber of her being urged her to shout YES from the rooftops, Elena's feelings be damned. Yet, and Bonnie hated this, there was a part of her about the size of a microbe that wanted to protect her. So she went with neutrality. "We came here together. You know we live together now."

Elena's brows elevated. She knew Damon crashed at Bonnie's when he didn't stay with Ric. However the way Bonnie said they lived together sounded like a permanent deal.

"Oh, that's…good. I'm glad Damon has somewhere stable to live until we can figure out a way to get rid of the traveler spell over Mystic Falls. I'm sure he misses the boardinghouse."

"Well, he doesn't have any complaints at my pad," Bonnie popped a cherry in her mouth, chewed. "He's made himself quite at home in my…inn. Excuse me for a second. I'm going to go say hi to Matt."

Elena watched her leave and then her breath seized as she caught sight of Damon entering the house, gifts in hand.

Elena devoured him in his all black attire. That yearning to be consumed and to consume rose like baking soda and vinegar blending. Yet she tempered the need, the pressure in her loins and hands as best she could.

Surprising herself, the doppelganger fought her innate impulse to weld to Damon's side and went to mingle. After all, there was pleasure to be found in delayed gratification.

Damon could say he honestly forgot Enzo existed. The vamp from across the pond had been laying low since teaming up with Bonnie and Stefan to save him from his kidnappers. Therefore, Damon was mildly surprised to see him, and pondered what tantrum Enzo would be throwing today.

"Long time no see," Damon voiced laconically.

"Well I got tired of hanging around the flat waiting for you to call, love. Now that that washed up teacher is back you don't have time for me."

"Quit your pouting. There's enough of me to go around, but you're going to have to learn to share."

"Don't worry. I'll find my kicks somewhere else," Enzo trailed off more interested in watching the latest beauty to sweep through the room. He growled throatily, "The witch is certainly looking agreeable tonight."

Damon gave him an arctic look before zeroing in on said witch. He regarded her, quite familiar with how Bonnie moved, how much space her presence soaked up in a room, how she added vitality and took away your concentration.

Something rumbled in his chest.

It wasn't lost on Damon he wasn't the only one watching her with surreptitious glances, or outright blatant intensity. He tramped down the impulse to yell at those with a penis who was into women to mind their fucking business. Especially Enzo since all Damon could see was the back of his head since he was too busy trying to break his neck to gawk at Bonnie.

"Hey!" pale white fingers snapped breaking Enzo's wandering eye.

"Sorry about that," he gifted Damon with his full attention. "In the words of Samuel L. Jackson, Merry Christmas motherfucker," he slapped a chocolate brown folder into Damon's chest.

"What's this?" Damon flipped open the file.

Enzo folded his arms. "Since no one else seemed to be putting in any effort to look into who kidnapped you, I decided to look into it. The car you had been hauled around in was stolen, but the name of one of your deceased kidnappers was Casper Witten of…"

"Bethesda, Maryland," Damon read from the photocopy of the man's vehicle registration.

"He worked off the books for a doctor, a geneticist. Her real name is unknown, but goes by the pseudonym Bathory Blackwell."

"Bathory Blackwell?"

"Bathory in honor of Erzsebet Bathory the bloody countess, and Blackwell is the surname of the first woman to earn a medical degree…Elizabeth Blackwell. Kind of cheeky if you think about it."

Damon looked away reflectively, "I've heard that name before."

"You have?"

Where, but more specifically when he heard that name was fuzzy to Damon. It dangled on the tip of his tongue, right there within his reach, but still far out of grasping range.

Damon regarded the stocky vampire, squinted, "Why did you even bother to look into who nabbed my ass? You could have left it alone."

"I could have, but a day might come where I need a favor, and I like having collateral. A good majority of the things I do always serves my interest. Never forge that. Cheers, mate."

Just as Damon went to run interference and cock block any shameful flirting Enzo might attempt with Bonnie since he saw him circling her, that's when it hit Damon. Where he had heard that name before.

New York City. 1903. It was a year before the New York City Subway opened but the year the Williamsburg Bridge was fully operational. He had been in town for various reasons, but the main one was to view the work of, and inventions inspired by Nikola Tesla, the renowned electrical engineer. Damon had little aptitude for science and her marvels, but he couldn't help the pang of curiosity. Besides, there was an invention there that had piqued his interest. A machine slated to use blood and electricity to reanimate dead tissue. That he had to see.

Someone had left a message for him at his hotel. A Bathory Blackwell requesting to meet for supper one evening. Damon found the note strange as he had never met the woman before, and couldn't think of a valid reason she'd want to break bread with him. Finding her invitation to dinner as an added invitation to drink from her veins, he sent a reply back agreeing to meet.

He went to the restaurant wearing his best suit and top hat, sat, and waited for an hour before a waiter came to him with a folded note and a look of apology. She cancelled, citing she was called away at the last minute, but left behind two opera tickets to enjoy the beautiful voice of her close friend, Beauregard Mackie for his trouble.

Damon hadn't gone to the opera that night. Or any night which followed. He shortly left New York for the decadence of Paris.

If Bathory Blackwell was alive and well in 1903, and was back on the map a hundred years later that could only mean one thing. She was a vampire. Or a witch. No, definitely a witch because one of his redneck kidnappers said the word 'witch' that night. And whatever degenerate plans she had for him in 1903, she had been looking to finish the job.

That cold, hollow side effect of nearly being possessed by a ghostly hybrid spread from the center of Damon's chest down his arms. He sequestered him outside needing a jolt of cold air, though standing in front of a fire would've made much more sense.

"Hey, you all right?" Stefan joined his brother on the patio. "You're looking whiter than usual."

Flipping the bird, Damon leaned his elbows on the banister. "Enzo may have found the person who had me kidnapped."

"Really? Who is it?"

"That's the thing, brother. I don't know. Ever heard of anyone named Bathory Blackwell?"

Stefan combed his long-term memory Rolodex and came away with nothing. He shook his head and glanced at Damon regrettably.

He shrugged having suspected Stefan wouldn't know anything about her. "Anyway, she invited me to have dinner with her back in 1903, stood me up, and left me a pair of opera tickets. And before you ask, no, she didn't tell me why she wanted to meet with me."

"You sure she's not someone you banged and turned because you were bored?"

"You do something one time and they won't let you live it down," Damon quipped.

Stefan pressed his lips. Now that they were on the subject, he wanted to pursue it. "How many vampires have you sired, Damon?"

The blue-eyed Salvatore searched the heavens for the answer. He knew for certain it was a lot less than those he killed, but he didn't have an exact number. "Maybe ten, maybe less, maybe more. I'm really bad at bookkeeping."

Stefan rolled his eyes. "Cute," he deadpanned.

"I do remember the big ones: Charlotte—sire bond, Isobel—Elena's mom, Vicky—you know what happened there, Abby—I hope Bonnie's forgiven me for that, and Elena—technicality and sire bond."

"Your first?"

Ruminating was not necessary for the answer came to Damon swiftly. "Morgaise Carpenter in 1897. I wanted a companion and her personality had hints of Katherine. We didn't last very long."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"If you're thinking Morgaise may have adopted a new identity and dedicated the rest of her immortality to extracting revenge on me for giving her something she wanted, I'm going to stop you right there. Morgaise was killed in the Great Purge of New Orleans in 1925 when the witches of the quarter decided they had had enough. One of her vampire sympathizing friends had written to me that Morgaise had been captured, and if I could help her escape. By the time I got to the city, she was already dead," Damon straightened to his full height, turned toward his brother. "A witch is behind whatever she was trying to do to me. I have a place to start looking," he held up the file.

"When do you plan to start because we do have a more immediate crisis brewing?"

Damon wrapped Stefan in a headlock who complained about him messing up his hair. "Don't you know, you little runt that I can be in two places at once."

At that time Caroline poked her head through the open sliding glass door. "If you two are done horse playing there are some ladies lacking in dance partners. Care to help 'em out?"

Between fighting off Enzo's unwanted advances amid trying to get to know Luke's boyfriend Quinn, Bonnie would say she was having an okay time. She put out of her head that Elena was circling like a hawk waiting for the right moment to strike and hem Damon into a corner, and entrap him with those one-note brown eyes, trading places with him in hoping he'd remember the good times they had, the love they shared.

Bonnie guzzled more wine.

Caroline dumped her weight on the arm of the sofa, a lip poke away from pouting. "I hate to say this about my own party but it blows!" she threw her hands up theatrically.

"What are you talking about? Everyone seems to be having a good time," Bonnie remarked.

"That's the thing. Everyone is getting along. I guess I'm used to there always being an undercurrent of tension and," she censored herself noticing Quinn was there too hanging on to her every word. "Well, everyone is behaving too damn nice, and no one is drunk since everyone's tolerance is high as hell," she pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're too young to party like we're middle age."

Bonnie patted her knee. She wouldn't complain about the slow pace of the party. She rather sit and be mellow rather than run for her life and be doused in blood.

"Well," Quinn interjected, "if you want to kick things up a notch, I have a friend that could provide a little, how you say, recreational pharmaceuticals. He engineers it himself. He's working on his PhD in chemistry, not living in a meth trailer if you're wondering. His stuff is totally organic. He takes what the earth provides naturally and…amplifies it."

Caroline and Bonnie wore mirrored expression of surprise.

"Does your friend live nearby?" Caroline said. Bonnie jabbed her with her elbow. "Just asking," the blonde cleared her throat.

"Have you forgotten who your mother is?" Bonnie peered at her chidingly.

"Then I guess it's a good thing for us she's hard at work," Caroline turned back to Quinn. "Call up your friend."

He was already pulling out his phone. "In an hour I'm sure you will have a much different opinion about the festivities. In the meantime, I brought cigars."

Quinn along with Tyler, Matt, Alaric, Stefan, Caroline, Liv, and Bonnie congregated outside to smoke.

"What are you doing?" Jeremy frowned at Bonnie.

She puffed on the Baccarat stogie, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, "What does it look like? I've never tried one of these before."

Besides taking a few hits off a joint at a party or two, and smoking those herbs supplied by Atticus Shane, Bonnie wasn't much of a smoker. But she toked on the cigar blowing out a stream a smoke though plenty of it went straight to her head.

Jeremy wasn't alone in finding that strange albeit undeniably sexy.

"Mind if I try one?" Jeremy petitioned Quinn.

"Help yourself."

Jeremy fished for a cigar out of the box at the same time Bonnie leaned sideways to see what Damon was getting up to during her absence.

He finally cornered Jo. Since Alaric was being a piss poor informant and narc in relaying any useful information about the good doctor's extracurricular activities, Damon figured it was past time to take matters into his own hands. He smiled as he topped off her glass of wine. Her black hair and icicle blue eyes sort of made Damon think of Isobel who was the last person he wanted to reminiscence about. He sat the bottle aside and tapped his glass with hers. Playing the part of the affable and friendly harmless guy possibly too handsome for his own good.

"You know all night I've been trying to figure out who you remind me of," Jo sipped her wine, pointed at Damon, "and I finally figured it out."

Feeling his ego would either be stroked or insulted, Damon tipped his chin up nonetheless. "Who?"

"Boone from Lost."

"Who?" the dark-haired vampire deadpanned. Damon sidled closer, heard her pulse kick up a notch. "Afraid I don't know who that is."

Jo reminded herself to breathe. Reminded herself she was here with Ric who she liked and found ruggedly handsome. Yet Damon…his level of attractiveness was potent and intimidating. She couldn't quite make out if he was flirting with her, or if it was normal for him to stare like he was trying to silently talk you into going to bed with him. Jo shook her head and remembered he had asked her a question.

"Uh, um…Boone, right! He was a pretty sweet guy who was in love with his stepsister…well former stepsister."

Damon had no comment. "Interesting. You know, I'm glad that you and I are getting this chance to talk. Things are getting serious between you and my good buddy Ric."

"Oh, so here comes the part where you vet me to make sure I'm not a fatal attraction in the making? No need to worry. I'm only crazy during certain months of the year."

"Aren't we all," Damon whispered conspiratorially. "What do you like to do in your spare time? You look like you're into hunting."

"Far from it. I see enough blood and guts at my job."

"So you're not into collecting antiques through and by unscrupulous means?"

Jo gawked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "No, I'm not into that. I lead a pretty boring life outside of the hospital. What about you, Damon? Alaric hasn't told me that much about you."

"Not that much to tell," he dismissed with a shrug.

"I don't believe that."

"You know what they say when you assume things."

"Right," she tipped her glass to her lips.

Alaric said his compulsion failed when he used it on Jo. Damon was willing to give it a shot figuring with age on his side it should work He gripped Jo lightly by the arm pinning her to the spot.

"Why are you really in Mystic Falls?"

Jo held his piercing gaze steadily, witnessing his pupils dilate to the point only a thin circle of blue was visible. Did he have a condition? "I'm here because the cost of living is ideal."

"Ever heard of Bathory Blackwell?"

Jo's heart sped a little. Damon's ears twitched at the sound. "No, I don't I think I have."

Lie number one he caught her in. He drew closer, "Do you know what I am?"

She pried his fingers off of her. "You seem like a cocky asshole, but I could be wrong. If there's something you'd like to know about me just come out and ask. Until then, I'm gonna see if there's any dessert left."

Jo nearly ran into Liv. The two blinked at one another feeling as if they knew each other, but recognized that as impossible since they had only met this evening. They mumbled their apologies and went in opposite directions.

Damon's shoulder was shoved by an incensed Alaric who had come barreling from across the room. "Real cool subtlety. What the hell was that?"

"That was me trying to get answers you should have gotten weeks ago," he whispered heatedly. "She lied which means she can't be compelled which means she's a witch!"

"Yeah and if you haven't notice witches come a dime a dozen in this town. That doesn't mean anything, Damon. Doesn't mean she had a hand in, or knows anything about why you were kidnapped. And taking into account it hasn't happened since I think we can move on from that."

A muscle in Damon's jaw ticked. Right when he was gearing up to tear Alaric a new asshole, he felt her.

Damon turned around.

He took in her smoky eyes, her dark lips, her svelte figure in plum cashmere, her hair piled atop her head. Everything about Elena was so familiar that Damon could admit it was a bit hard to be unaffected. Matters of immunity weren't helped by the way she gazed at him like she was crazy in love.

Further evidence of that ill-timed fact was the bracelet around her wrist with the dangling D&E charm he bought for her 19th birthday. A birthday celebrated during the summer of their lives.

Damon knew it had been too much to hope for that ending things with Elena would be cut and dry.

"Hi," she said huskily.

"Hey," Damon's attention darted around the room. He was looking for Bonnie. He spotted her going upstairs.

"You look nice."

Damon flicked the lapel of his button down. "I do what I can."

Elena giggled, shifted her weight on her feet. "Listen, can we talk before the gift exchange?"

"Elena…"

"I'm not expecting anything, Damon."

"Then why are you wearing that bracelet?"

Her fingers pushed it along her forearm. "Because I knew it would be the only way I could be close to you tonight."

His chest expanded after hearing that.

Bonnie watched them from the second floor landing—stone faced. She couldn't hear what they were saying but didn't need to. She was apt enough in decoding body language to get the gist of their conversation. There may have been a good foot and a half of space separating Damon and Elena, their entire focus, however, was on each other. Neither one was looking at anything else than who was standing right in front of them. Bonnie inhaled a deep breath, telling herself not to read too much into anything. But seeds of jealously were being planted whether she wanted them in her rational garden or not.

The bell tolled and she used it as a distraction looking to see who had arrived. Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when the guy from the sorority party swept into the cabin. Her nails dug into the banister as Caroline embraced the interloper like they were life-long friends.

He trailed next to her friend as she enthusiastically introduced him. Luc, right. Short for Luvicer spelled with a V and not an F like that made a damn bit of difference, Bonnie squinted.

Luc glanced up and looked right at her, grinned.

A/N: Part II of the holiday party will be coming as soon as I can configure something's to get the B plot moving along. Please let know what you think. I appreciate hearing your thoughts even when it comes to small/non-shipper moments. XOXO!