A/N: PSA time: If you're a registered voter in the US, please go out and vote on November 8th. Please! I don't want my country to go back to Jim Crow or worse slavery era. If you think not casting a vote won't matter, don't complain if shit goes south. Now, on to the story.

Mortals in love are a peculiar thing. They thrived or wilted, were happy or easily vexed, abhorred solitude but needed space, or longed for companionship they would accept any tiny morsel even if it was beneath them. She imagined they were not so different from her ilk that fought at a moment's notice over some slight, insult, or offense. Loved dangerously and oftentimes possessively. But a mortal loving an immortal—it was a date with doom.

As evidence by the heartbreaking scene unfolding before her. The facts as they stood collided with what had been funneled to her via her various spies. There had been only one face from a singular bloodline her son loved—a monolith he piled his entire self-worth and fealty into. Now he had found a new face to love and such a pity that she was dying in his arms. Yet that was a consequence when taking on a mortal lover.

They died.

Head cocked curiously to the side, she observed through the shadows. Saw the color tinting her son's pallid cheeks, saw the hysteria and terror that shrunk the size of his pupils as he furtively looked around, heard the crack in his voice as he begged her not to die, saw him fumbling to handle his bleeding paramour gently while trying to do everything he could to resuscitate her. Her wound was so severe that giving her his blood would only make things worse.

Copper and magic was an aromatic plume of discordance. She could hear the witch's blood screaming for vengeance as it soaked into the earth that greedily gobbled it up. Her taste buds tingled in envy as the spaces beneath her lashes superheated. Her long, tapered fingernails sharpened, and her muscles bunched in anticipation of springing from her hiding place, throwing her son to the side, and sinking her fangs into the witch to get that last drop of blood before it was completely wasted.

Lily Salvatore sucked in a shuddering breath to quell her lascivious thirst.

She went still in the next moment because her son was looking right at her. She must have breathed too loudly.

Anxiety coiled in her belly and nearly drove her to flee, but her son averted his gaze back to the witch. Perhaps he hadn't seen her.

But behind her Lily suddenly felt the mouth of something malign opening its jaws, its teeth ready to taste and rip flesh off bones.

With this new presence came new smells. One that overpowered the intoxicating aroma of O negative. It smelled of human defecation, sulfur, and a stench so sanguine sweet it was putrid. Whatever it was, it was watching the scene too.

Instinct said it was a predator, a malach of some sort. Her ears twitched as it sprinted off, the invitation to follow hung in its wake.

Lily hesitated sparing her son one final glance. "I'll see you soon. Maybe."

She gave chase and stopped right at the border of Mystic Falls where the trail had led her and instantly gone cold. She knew she couldn't enter the town's borders or the spirit magic that kept her alive would stop working. Lily sensed a strange fluttering in the air.

And then she saw…

Three seconds, which was no time at all, but was more than enough time for a life to end.

He started freaking the fuck out. This can't be happening. Not to her. Not again!

Damon bit so deep into his wrist he hit bone.

Her eyes which had been staring sightlessly up at the night sky shifted to the left.

Shock, she was going into shock now. Her body was convulsing or wanted to but something was restraining her. Bonnie could vaguely hear her name being called, no shouted. Screamed in a desperate plea.

Cold and needles of pain firmed into a solid mass and she was…numb.

"Shit, shit, shit. Hold on," Damon begged through gritted teeth.

Her lids were half-mast. Her heart thumped faintly.

Bonnie's lips moved seconds before he jammed his wrist between her teeth. Damon jerked back.

"What? Don't try to talk, Bonnie!"

Her green irises were shifting color, becoming darker, and alarmingly rolled into the back of her head.

Just as Damon was about to scream for her to stay with him he felt the air stir. He didn't look up. Couldn't look up. Not with Bonnie…oh god! Instead, he let his other senses fill in the blanks of what the hell was going on around him.

It was a shadow. Fermenting in the dark until the presence was a body with substance. It seemed to pull the immaterial toward it like a gravitational force, a nexus before pushing it out.

In his peripheral Damon saw shoes—men's shoes, jeans, and the hem of a wool, quarter length coat. He tasted ice, smelled burning embers and something aromatic he couldn't quite place. Brown hands came into view and finally Damon craned his chin up to glower at whoever had arrived.

His brows furrowed in confusion.

Luc didn't waste time asking questions. Bonnie lied sprawled in Damon's lap losing blood by the liter.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the vampire snarled.

Unfazed, Luc kept his attention rapt on the flow of blood seeping between pale fingers, "We might want to move things inside."

Damon's voice rose in octave, "What?!"

"Bonnie's neighbors are getting curious."

Quickly glancing around, Damon noticed that porch lights were flicking on and a few people had stepped out of their homes to see what all the yelling he had been doing was about.

"Hey, what's going on?" one of Bonnie's neighbors asked.

Spurned into action, Damon lifted Bonnie as gently as he could and darted inside with Luc bringing up the rear who closed the front door.

Damon couldn't stand this. He bit into his wrist again determined to get his blood into Bonnie at any cost, willfully overlooking the high probability he might turn her. Her heart was slowing down and she was losing so much blood. Everything was happening too fast and then seemed to be crawling at a glacial pace.

Luc lowered to his haunches, grabbed Bonne's left wrist.

"Don't touch her!"

Disregarding the vampire's outburst, Luc held his left hand three inches above Bonnie's heart to keep it beating. "You need to let go of her neck," Luc commanded softly.

Damon's nostrils flared. "What? No! She'll bleed out more than she already is…"

"Hey, do me a favor…shut up and let. Me. Help. Move, vampire."

Damon felt himself being physically removed as he slid across the floor on his knees.

"You'll end up turning her faster than healing her with your blood."

Damon watched helplessly as Luc hurriedly drew some type of sigil on Bonnie's chest using her blood. Then he drew additional ones at the four points of her body on the floor. Each different and none Damon recognized.

"You might want to back away," Luc advised and shuttered his orbs.

Damon was a bit rusty when it came to languages, yet if he weren't mistaken it sounded like Luc was chanting in Arabic.

His voice was soporific in tone that for a second Damon was hit with a wave of overwhelming sleepiness. He shook his head and forced himself to focus but his vision…something funky was happening. He could see heat waves although the air wasn't saturated with humidity. What the hell was Luc doing? Damon prayed he knew what he was doing and that he did it fast.

Jerky vampires were probably the worst vampires to be around. Those without their humanity ranked high on the list—Luc qualified, but they could be predictable in their unfeelingness. For inhumanity was a tricky thing because one could not not feel emotion just as one cannot stop thinking. Jittery vampires were more prone to lashing out at anyone who happened to be standing around, even those who were trying to help.

What Luc sensed coming off Damon—an emotional bukkake—was fierce enough he could feasibly wake several coma patients up. It was tempting, oh so tempting to tap into Damon's energy. However, he rather not incur his wrath not while he soothed and massaged Bonnie's soul as he healed her body.

Bonnie can't die. She won't leave me. She can't die. She can't leave me were the vampire's racing thoughts.

Damon paced maddeningly, every so often flicking his eyes toward Bonnie's sprawled form and Luc hovering near. He didn't know what was taking so damn long. If Bonnie were doing the healing she would have been finished five minutes ago!

Perhaps only minutes had ticked off the clock, but an eternity had stretched in between each one. Damon combed a hand through his hair, staining it with Bonnie's blood as he bit into his cheek to resist snippily asking Luc if he was done.

Luc stopped chanting and Damon paused in mid-step.

He turned and stared, more like gawked. Then he was hissing as light brighter than the sun flashed and fried his retinas. He snapped his lids closed, averted his gaze. Damon blocked as much of the singeing light with his arm but it was no use. It was too much at once and as soon as it flared it was over.

A thick heady and earthy musk hung in the air and…the loveliest sound tickled Damon's eardrums.

It was a madhouse at Mystic Falls Medical Center. Women going into labor, hand injuries from putting bikes and other hazardous toys together, burns the result of electric fires. The triage area was swamped with patients as nurses and other medical personnel directed traffic, answered questions, calmed tempers while doctors dashed from one examination room to another.

Hand on her utility belt, Sheriff Forbes stalked behind the attending physician of Marissa Hargrove who was found barely alive at the Blake residence the night before.

Dr. Ramona Phyllis swapped one patient chart for another as she said, "Ms. Hargrove underwent a blood transfusion and needed surgery to repair damage to her carotid artery. She's lucky to be alive. A wound like that, you bleed out in minutes. I can't guarantee she'll be able to tell you anything of substance. She's heavily sedated."

"What's your professional opinion on what could have caused her injury?" Liz asked as protocol dictated, but she already knew. So did Ramona who never served on the council, yet knew the history of Mystic Falls.

"I can tell you what didn't. A knife. There were puncture wounds consistent with teeth impressions. But you and I both know human teeth couldn't have bitten that poor girl," she peered at Liz meaningfully through her half-moon spectacles.

"Can I see her?"

Ramona nodded, "She's in room 205."

Liz stared at the young woman, her ashen face, tubes running every which way, and the bandage around her neck.

"Marissa," Liz said softly, "Marissa, its Sheriff Forbes."

Groggily, Marissa awakened, winced, and smacked her chapped lips together. She looked around and finally locked gazes with Liz, but not a flicker of recognition lit her charcoal eyes.

Liz offered the best smile she could muster and reached into her bomber jacket for her digital recorder turning the device on. "I'm sorry to disturb you but I need to get your statement."

"Where…?" she rasped tiredly.

"You're in the hospital having sustained a very serious injury. I'd like to ask you some questions. Do feel up to it?"

Marissa nodded, weakly.

"We'll go as slow as we need to, okay?"—Marissa gave another tiny nod—"Can you tell me what happened, or what you remember?"

Marissa's lips moved, but the sound which followed was very faint. Even straining to hear, Liz couldn't make heads or tails of what she was saying. However, the beeps of the machines monitoring her blood pressure and other vitals increased. Liz took note Marissa was becoming distressed.

"It's okay, Marissa," she lightly touched her shoulder. "Take your time. You're safe, nothing will hurt you. I promise you."

"…what…what happened to…me?"

"You were attacked during the Blake's holiday party. Can you recall anything that happened?"

Tears leaked and ran down Marissa's cocoa brown cheeks. She thought it had been a dream, a very bad nightmare, but if she was in the hospital and the sheriff was here…it was real.

At first nothing came to her. But as she closed her eyes the scene blossomed in full Technicolor. Marissa broke out into a clammy sweat, her hand instantly going to the area where…she had been bitten.

"Jen…" she whispered breathily.

Liz leaned down basically putting her ear to Marissa's mouth, and heard loud and clear the name of the person who nearly exsanguinated the twenty-seven year old.

The sheriff reared back abruptly, the expression she wore bespoke of her shock.

"Jenna Sommers attacked you?" that couldn't be right Liz wanted to correct her. Jenna couldn't have done it because she was dead and had been for the last four years. Marissa had to be mistaken or Jenna had a doppelganger that was a vampire too. Either case made her stomach flip-flop uncontrollably.

Marissa nodded and was going under again. She was out cold before Liz could ask her anymore questions.

What in hell did this mean?

She was in that cave again. Chocked-full with so much magic it made her heart stop and she died instantly.

A strangled scream nearly rolled off of Bonnie Bennett's tongue the moment consciousness tore through her. She woke up frantically. Panic was thickened saliva in her mouth and tasted of rancid bile.

Hands touched her and she jumped at the contact. Her skin felt translucent that like of a jellyfish and fragile, but also…something unidentifiable. She could see in shades of red no matter how many times she blinked. Bonnie caught movement and saw a dark face like hers but the paler one was closer. Damon.

Bonnie pawed at his chest and tried to speak. Words wouldn't come. Damon's lips moved, but his tone was muffled as if he were talking to her submerged underwater.

Questions abided in Damon like impatient children but tending to Bonnie was more important. He had no idea how badly he trembled in relief even after hearing her heart pick up in rhythm. He wanted to touch her everywhere for his own piece of mind that she hadn't died yet he restrained himself.

Instead, Damon rushed her upstairs depositing Bonnie on the closed toilet lid as he grabbed towels, turned on the hot water in the tub, and undressed her. Once the tub was full he carefully plunged Bonnie in it, tucking strands of her hair behind her ear. His gaze dropped to her neck where, beyond the blood, he could see a lateral scar he hoped in time would fade. She didn't need any physical reminders of the attempts made on her life.

Throat on fire, vision still crap, Bonnie felt like a dried out husk. Her fingers prodded her neck, and the splice of pain that shot up made her hiss.

"No, Bonnie, don't," Damon murmured shakily because the rage and fear in him hadn't settled down. He pulled her hands away.

Bonnie glanced at him, her sclera still chillingly red.

"I'll be right back. I'm not leaving you. Okay?"

Bonnie only stared at him blankly and that crushed Damon's heart.

He hurried downstairs where he caught Luc looking at the holiday display on the mantel.

Damon cracked his knuckles, the sound loud enough to garner Luc's attention. He faced the vampire. Waited.

The proper thing to do would be to say 'thank you' but Damon's stubborn mouth refused to say the word.

"How's Bonnie?" Luc prompted.

"She's fine." Or she will be, Damon hoped. "How'd you know—?"

"—she was in trouble? She summoned me. I came."

A corner of Damon's eye shrunk. He'd think of the implications of that later. There was something a million times more important that he needed to know. "Since you seem to know more than you lead on…Who tried to kill her?"

Luc took a step forward, the beginnings of a smile on his visage that faded and filled with unbridled contempt. "I think you know who would benefit if Bonnie wasn't alive anymore."

Damon exhaled not wanting to believe it, but knowing deep down it was true. His ear twitched at hearing Bonnie whisper his name. He looked behind him toward the staircase for just a second and when he brought his gaze back to Luc…he was gone.

Muttering about Houdini disappearing tricks, Damon called his brother.

"Last night was fun."

Caroline glanced at Stefan who approached with two decorative paper plates in his hands that he shoved into a garbage bag. She was pleased he had a good time although they hadn't spent much time actually talking to one another.

"Yeah, it was," Caroline tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and resumed tidying up the living room.

Those who were sober enough to drive had bailed. Only Stefan, Matt, and Jeremy had remained. Matt was in the bathroom tossing his cookies whereas Jeremy was out cold on the couch. Caroline checked the time. She was a bit bummed her mom couldn't get away from work, which reminded the bubbly blonde she hadn't told the others that there had been another attack in Mystic Falls.

As strong as the need to share that info was, it paled to what Caroline actually wanted to discuss. She sucked in a breath and looked at Stefan. It was time to rip the Band-Aid off.

"Are things ever going to stop being awkward between us?"

Stefan straightened. He knew this had been coming and hoped it wouldn't. He adored Caroline as a friend, but that was where his feelings began and ended. He had endured Lexi's not-so-subtle hints that Caroline was supposedly perfect for him. Felt like a douche when Caroline, in not so many words said she liked him more than just a friend. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but Stefan couldn't force his feelings to change and she deserved to be with someone who shared her feelings.

"Care…" he began somberly.

And his tone said it all. "No, it's all right."

"No, listen."

"You don't have to say anything else, Stefan. I know a rejection when I hear one."

Stefan flashed in front of her, "Caroline, you're my best friend and I'm sorry that I lost sight of that and treated you these last few months like I didn't give a shit. That was wrong of me."

Caroline stared down at her feet. She hated this. Hated rejection. Hated how it hurt. She stiffened a little when Stefan affectionately rubbed her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said again, quietly. "I…" Stefan's ringing phone cut off the rest of his sentence. "Hey, Damon?" he listened. "What?"

At hearing the sharpness of that word, Caroline eavesdropped. She heard Damon trying to speak as calmly as possible but she could detect the fury in his voice.

Someone attacked Bonnie.

"We're on the way," Stefan hung up.

Caroline was already out the door.

Violence often begets more violence and Damon was feeling pretty violent at the moment. The evidence he hoped he wouldn't find…he did. The murder weapon stained with Bonnie's blood. Wariness, anger, love, hate, disappointment, mania it ran through him like a diuretic. It pulled his strings and he obeyed.

The sleeping doppelganger got an awakening she'd remember for eternity. Snatched from the comfort of her bed, her feet kicked and dangled a few inches off the ground as a hand held her by the throat, pinned to the wall.

Seeing who it was shocked her even more.

Her skull was being crushed like an egg being cracked against a counter. Elena struggled for freedom. She slapped Damon, punched him, kneed his balls but he was relentless. She was a sapling going up against nearly two hundred years of savagery. Nothing was going to ease his grip, make him stop until her brains was a portrait on the wall. His face was the definition of evil; his pupils were mere dots but his irises were so dark they looked black.

Was he possessed, snapped, flipped his switch? What the hell would make him try to kill her, she honestly had no clue.

"D…a…mon," Elena croaked his name. "Please."

Funny, that word please, Damon was thinking. It denoted having mercy, prompted others to be gracious, lenient. Acquiesce to your desire.

He released her. He had questions and a dead-dead woman wouldn't be able to answer them.

Elena instantly dropped to her ass, coughing and wincing. Pain throbbed, blood matted her hair on the back of her skull; she was sticky and hot, and pissed off. "What the hell is your problem?" she wheezed.

Damon took two steps away from her. "My problem is the fact you tried to kill Bonnie tonight."

"WHAT?!" Brown orbs widened at the accusation. Elena tried to get up.

"Don't," Damon snapped in warning.

Elena flinched. "No, I wouldn't do that to Bonnie."

Damon held up a blood-stained box cutter that proved otherwise. "Then explain why this was in your fucking desk drawer?"

Elena stared at the box cutter like she had never seen it before.

"Answer me!" Damon's voice stung like a whip. "You better fucking answer me."

Tears pebbled as Elena racked her brain.

At first her mind was a total blank. Then it all began to trickle in. Elena remembered leaving Caroline's, returning to the dorm, drinking, rage writing in her journal about her suspicions. She fell asleep at some point and when she awakened in the morning with the foul taste of whiskey on her tongue, those feelings of betrayal were still there. Boiling, simmering, rising. She had driven to Bonnie's without showering or changing out of her party attire. Bonnie's car had been in the driveway but Damon's wasn't. She listened and didn't hear the sound of a heartbeat. So she called Caroline and casually asked if Bonnie and Damon were still there.

"Yeah, they're still here. Did you want to talk to Bonnie?"

"No, I…no. I was just curious."

"What happened to you last night? You just disappeared."

"I was missing my mom, dad, and Jenna. Just wanted to be alone for a while," she lied.

"It's the holidays you shouldn't isolate yourself. Come back to the cabin. We're cooking breakfast."

"Maybe. I have some last minute errands to run," Elena hung up, drove around for a bit all the while her thoughts churned.

She hadn't actually prepared what she would say to either Bonnie or Damon. If she should confront them now or gather more evidence, but then what was she going to do? She couldn't demand that Damon be with her. He made a choice. He had chosen Bonnie.

Still it curdled and pissed her the fuck off because Elena felt Damon was taken from her. If Markos had never been busted out of the other side, if it hadn't started falling apart, if Stefan hadn't been killed, she and Damon would be together. It was as simple as that. They never got to truly have any happiness, at least not for any length of time. Her summer was ruined when she found out Bonnie died and that Stefan had spent three months drowning over and over again. From there things went from bad to worse, and in between, she and Damon couldn't get on the same page outside of fucking each other's brains out.

Regardless he was her soul mate.

Elena felt it was up to her to make things right. To remind Damon that they weren't finished, that they had barely gotten started. Even if he cared something for Bonnie it didn't compare to how he obsessively loved her. That didn't go away over night or even in the course of a few months.

So she waited until they arrived home.

It was unfurling in Elena's mind. Her stomach was tightening, her gag reflex was fluttering. She was calm and rational or she had been until she saw with her own eyes Bonnie and Damon kissing, no not kissing but groping, tonguing one another like it was going out of style.

Everything in Elena flat lined. She had clamored inside her glove compartment and reached for what she kept stored there. Its weight in her hand gave her purpose and a solution. Elena flew across the street and sighed in relief as she sunk the blade into a delicate little neck and dragged it across. When she came to, she stood in her dorm, stripped, showered, pulled back the covers and had fallen asleep.

She wanted to deny it, had opened her mouth to deny it but Damon held up a blood-stained box cutter.

Hot bile exploded from her lips. Damon sneered and turned his head away. Dropped the box cutter. It bounced and slid close to her. Elena recoiled from it.

"I wouldn't hurt Bonnie," she whimpered pitiably. "I wouldn't."

Damon snorted. "You did. After all the shit she's gone through for you and this is how you repay her?"

A spark of annoyance flashed through Elena. "I know what's she's done for me."

"You're an ungrateful bitch."

Elena gasped.

Damon kneeled down to his haunches ignoring the stink of her vomit on the floor. "You went after her because of me. If you thought killing her would make me want to be with you again, you fucked up. I'm not your property, Elena."

"You're going to be the worst thing to happen to her just like you were the worst thing to happen to me!"

Damon inhaled sharply the same as Elena once she realized what she said. But she was on the train now and wouldn't stop moving. Damon needed a strong dose of the acrid truth and she was going to give it to him.

She continued, "Your love has turned me into the kind of person who would…who would try to k-ill her best friend," she gulped thickly. "You're going to be a disappointment to her and you know it as well as I do, because only I know what it feels like to want more and never be satisfied with what you have. Bonnie wasn't built to handle your brand of selfish love. I was. She won't change you because you'll make her into another you. Is that what you want? For her to be self-absorbed and codependent like me? I'm your creation, Damon. I'm your finest work. And deep down you know you won't do better than me because don't deserve better than me."

Damon said nothing for a while before finally uttering, "I'll let Bonnie deal with you as she sees fit." He left, slamming the door in his wake and against Elena screaming his name.

Damon made it outside before he allowed the trembling to take over.

This was his fault. If he hadn't behaved as if he couldn't breathe without Elena in his life, built her up as his end all be all, treated her like a gotdamn trophy, stuck to his guns the first time he broke up with her…none of them would be here. He might not have directed Elena's actions but his presence in her life had served as a catalyst. He did this. Destroyed this once innocent girl, made her into a monster. Made Elena into the type of person who would try to kill the one person who had died for her happiness repeatedly. Perhaps indirectly, but it had his stench all over it.

Damon braced his hands on his knees, felt his eyes sting.

His phone rang. It was Liz. He routed her to voice mail. He wasn't in the right frame of mind to hear whatever she had to say.

Liz Forbes sipped her lukewarm coffee while reviewing statements her deputies gathered from other attendees at the Blake's party. No one had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. Of course. Damon hadn't answered her call, nor did he return her message to get in touch with her. But it was probably too soon to take this to him and really what could he do anyways? The council may have been dissolved, but someone still needed to investigate supernatural or paranormal claims. Jenna Sommers alive? Liz refused to believe that. But what she's seen, lived through, and heard from her daughter, she knew she couldn't just write off Marissa Hargrove's account as the ranting of a traumatized young woman.

A knock sounded on her office door. Liz looked up. "Yes?"

"Hi, ummm…I need to report someone m-missing."

A stone dropped to the bottom of Liz's stomach. She waved the obviously flustered twentysomething into her office. "Who do you need to report missing and how long has he or she been missing?"

"It's a she," the woman sat down and cleared her throat. "Cherise Tomlinson. We…she, myself and one other friend were at the Blake's."

That caught Liz's attention. "Go on."

"My name is Joy Remeris, I meant to say that earlier. Cherise is my roommate. She sent me a text saying that she was going home, but she never made it home. I've called, texted her, but she hasn't called me back. Marissa, the woman who was attacked…she's Cherise's ex-girlfriend."

"Cherise doesn't have a history of going away for a day or two or not answering her phone?"

Joy shook her head, released a shaky breath. "Cherise is surgically glued to her phone. She wouldn't ignore calls and she doesn't take off without letting me know where she's going. I'm afraid that whoever attacked Marissa did something to Cherise. Please find her."

They said that destiny was written in the stars but hers was written in the dirt. From clay to body to ash that was her cycle extended over a period of twenty years. Bonnie didn't know what she was now. Tired, maybe. Fed up, most definitely.

Their voices floated up to her bedroom through the vents. The voices of her…friends. She heard them talking in tones of incredulity, inevitability, and uncertainty. Bonnie knew who did this to her; and though she couldn't say she was surprised, the news made her feel her love, friendship, and years of support had been worthless.

"It was Elena," Damon revealed emotionlessly.

Caroline sputtered, "What do you mean it was Elena?"

Stefan cursed, "Fuckin' hell."

Bonnie listened hard as Damon said, "She did what most vampires and some humans do when a rival is in the way."

"But…she…wouldn't...unless. How could she?" Caroline was flabbergasted.

Stoic Stefan: "Did you kill her, Damon?"

Damon released a puff of air that sounded like a tired laugh. "I didn't."

"When Bonnie finds out," Caroline murmured, "it's going to destroy her."

There a considerable pause after that in which Bonnie scoffed. It was much too late.

"I'm gonna go and check up on her," Damon drained his bourbon and made his way to her bedroom.

He found her moving things around on her dresser, organizing and reorganizing. From the set of her shoulders and sniffles Damon knew she knew. Coming up behind her, his touch made Bonnie jump but that didn't stop him from turning her in his arms.

Fat tears wet her cheeks. Damon framed those cheeks trying in earnest to get Bonnie to focus on him. Her lungs felt full of sand, her heart was another matter altogether. Blindly she pulled his hands away and pushed him away a little.

Damon knew how Bonnie's mind worked; that she would find some way to blame herself for Elena's actions and cruelty. He also knew Bonnie would call off what they were trying to build for the sake of restoring harmonic peace and balance. Take it as a sign that it was wrong for them to have any feelings outside of platonic for one another. That now wasn't their time. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. The only people who were going to determine that would be them and not a jealous bitch that couldn't move on.

"Listen to me, none of what happened was your fault."

Damon was going on and on and on but Bonnie wasn't listening. She had forgiven Elena many slights, even the ones she hadn't explicitly apologized for, and Bonnie knew her role didn't help. But none of it mattered. Not anymore.

Rage is a beautiful color when you dress yourself in revenge.

She interrupted him, "Can you tell Caroline and Stefan I said thank you for coming to stay with me, but I just…"

"Bonnie," Caroline crept inside. Two heads swung in her direction. A silent look passed between the blonde and elder Salvatore. Proceed with caution. "I made you some tea if you feel up to drinking it."

"Thank you. You don't have to stay. You should be with your mom."

"No, you need me more than she does…Plus your tree is still not decorated," the blonde beamed. If there was something she was good at, it was deflecting. "When you're ready you can join me downstairs and supervise. You won't have to lift a finger. Okay?" she drew Bonnie into a hug, felt her nose tingle because tonight could have ended much more horribly.

Caroline vanished before Bonnie could see her cry.

Just the two of them again, Bonnie skirted around Damon retreating into the bathroom. Her parting words:

"If Elena's not running she might want to start."

She pilfered one of Damon's Oxford shirts. It was buttoned improperly with one side being longer than the other. The whole of her left shoulder was exposed. Bonnie sat lotus style on the floor next to her richly decorated Christmas tree compliments of Caroline. A chess board was set up in front of her. She sipped from a glass of water as she eyed the pieces on the board.

Damon came up behind her. Tentatively. He couldn't gauge her mood like he normally could. Today had been hell and he'd yet to process everything, but the one thing Damon hoped wasn't lost was their connection. He massaged Bonnie's shoulders and kissed her neck. He hummed when she didn't flinch at his touch.

"This is an odd way of playing chess," he remarked.

The pieces were not assembled how they ordinarily would be. Pawns, knights, and the two kings were aligned in a circle. A queen and a pawn stood in the center.

"I'm not playing chess," she explained. "I'm strategizing."

"Strategizing what? You should be resting."

Bonnie glanced at her phone briefly. "Esther called to make sure we were still on for rebuilding the other side on New Year's Day."

Bonnie could hear Damon gearing up to denounce and protest her working with Esther when there were still so many unanswered questions surrounding the original witch's motives, the stolen talisman, revenants, what she went through tonight, and of course what Bonnie had in store concerning Elena. She had been quiet for most of the afternoon, but Damon wasn't stupid.

Craning her neck, Bonnie rubbed her nose on his. "Can you get me another blanket? I can't seem to stay warm."

Knowing he was being played and diverted mattered little because Bonnie was looking too adorable so Damon allowed it.

"I'll be right back."

The moment she was alone, Bonnie did two things at once. She repeated the words to summon Luc while trapping Damon in her bedroom.

Bonnie's heart rate accelerated; the pounding resonating in her eardrums. Suddenly she felt phantom fingers—a thousand little soldiers creep over her skin and it made it costly to swallow. The feeling was eerily freakish and surprisingly…soothing.

It grew dark in the living room despite the lights still being on and not a single bulb had blown or was switched off. Wind funneled until it was visible.

The helix of wind evaporated into burnished mist and out stepped Lucvier.

She got to her feet.

He was Al Pacino in Devil's Advocate about to stick his finger in the baptismal font to make it bubble. There was something very dark and beautiful about Luc that compounded Bonnie.

"You rang," mirth danced in his gaze.

"You saved my life. Why?"

"It needed saving."

Both of them could hear Damon raging upstairs but his shouts were ignored.

"You took the talisman."

"I did."

"Why?"

"It brings nothing but trouble."

"What are you?"

Luc cocked his head to the side. "What do you think I am?"

"I don't know because I've never…there's never been anything like you. You can compel vampires. Appear out of thin air. Are you a warlock?"

"I'm better than that."

Bonnie's patience was running extremely thin. "What are you, Luc?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

He eased forward, dark eyes glittering, "Then let me start by telling you my real name. It's Ezra…Hopkins. I'm your brother."

A/N: Duh-du-duh! How are we feeling about things? Please let me know in my lonely comments sections. It's eager to be fed. Thank you for reading. XOXO and remember VOTE!