you guys are totally gonna hate me...and its ok I hate me for leaving you with such a short chapter, but I'm sooo sleepy...

*yawn* soo sleepy. once again I'm sorry. if there are spelling errors, I'm sorry, just too tired to edit anything

my job is killing me...lol a little mortician humor for ya! *yawns*

onwards with the story...

Chapter 8 Game Plan

Damon's POV

Damon rushed into his lieutenant's office as the older man was going over some paperwork. He looked years older than his fifty-nine years. The graying of not his temples but eyebrows and mustache only accented the effect. Plus all those worry lines. Being a cop was not easy on the aging process.

The lieutenant looked up as Damon entered. "Aren't you off?"

"Yeah but I got a break in the case."

"Great." lieutenant Tanner said. Then his bushy eyebrows knitted together. "Wait. You don't have any active cases."

Damon pulled a folder out from under his arm and put it on Tanner's desk. "The Starving Stanley Case."

Tanner took off his black rimmed glasses and looked at Damon. "You realize that's not an actual case right?"

Damn tapped the folder. "You call five women dead from a week's worth of starvation natural causes?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "Damon they were homeless, and I believe one of the supposed victims frequently refused food at the soup kitchen because she insisted that Christ himself was gonna bake her bread."

Damon sat down hard on the wooden chair opposite of Tanner's desk. He hated the way his lieutenant looked at him. He hated the way everyone in the station looked at him.

The pity and disappointment, but also the fear-it haunted them just behind the eyes.

No one liked to have their mortality challenged. And Damon was one big walking billboard for what could happen to you on the job.

They all viewed him as broken, damaged goods.

Funny-while he was in the hospital; everyone was all about how much they missed him, how much they could hardly wait until he was back in the barn. Until of course, he's actually come back into the barn. Then the sideways glances.

The awkward silences.

The shunning.

Damon couldn't blame them. It was human nature.

Although had he known how crappy his life was about to become, he probably wouldn't have worked quite so hard during the six months of grueling physical therapy and the hours upon hours of talk therapy to get him through the worst of the PTSD.

To think, he could have just been lying back in a Jacuzzi taking his sweet time to get better.

But here he was with the lieutenant who didn't trust him and a station's worth of detectives who didn't want to be his partner.

"Look, we can argue the merits of the case, but the fact is another woman has been taken."

Instead of touching his chin in a reflective manner against his chin, Tanner's eyebrows went up again. "Really? Because I didn't see anything on the blotter."

Also part of the problem was that tanner had been a great detective before his promotion. This wasn't the old age. "Those who can't do, teach."

Tanner had the instincts and had always put Damon through his paces. But now it felt it was to make sure the Damon never got ahead of the game as he had done before.

Damon sighed before answering. "That's because she's been gone less than forty-eight hours."

Tanner put his glasses back on and leaned into his chair before he spoke. "So are you missing the glory days? Is that what this is about?"

Yep, this is what his life had descended too. His own lieutenant suspecting his motives for wanting to hunt down a serial killer. Guess he was going to have to prove to his supervising officer that he really was onto a case.

"Bonnie Bennett volunteered at the woman's shelter, and her blood was found in an alley alongside a fresh set of van tracks. And her friend thinks 'something awful' happened to bonnie. What more do you need?"

Tanner put his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, looking at Damon above his glasses. "I thought we agreed that you'd work your way back up to psychopaths?"

He shoved the file back toward Damon. "You know start with a little shoplifting and maybe try your hand a few hit and runs?"

"Lieutenant!" Damon tied to interject but Tanner overrode him.

"No, Salvatore. You've got to go home and get some rest. The department imposed your four day work week for a reason."

Damon stood. "So I am to expect absolutely no help on this?"

"Absolutely is a harsh term." Tanner conceded. "But correct."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Before his injury tanner would have given Damon carte blanche, as many men and resources as he wanted. Now what? Did he expect Damon to beg?

"Fine." Damon said "If you won't help me I'll find someone who will."

Damon got up and headed for the door. Tanner pushed his glasses further up his nose and went back to his paperwork. "Okay."

His lieutenant didn't even respect him enough to bust his chops.

A sad day indeed.

Bonnie's POV

Bonnie rocked back and forth on the cot. She didn't know what else to do. The motion helped d her calm her nerves. At least she wasn't crying anymore. Her sides still hurt from her last crying jag.

Kol still sat at her feet, pulling strips from the sheet. The other men-well the other men were taunting Alaric trying to throw things at his crotch. Bonnie didn't feel a bit sorry for him.

"Bastards!" Alaric yelled, throwing a button back at Jeremy.

The chime sounded again and the ever so pleasant voice announced "how lucky you are! Potpourri will begin on the count of three."

Kol turned to bonnie. "I've got to explain."

Bonnie didn't even stop rocking as she answered. "Leave me alone."

How could this get any worse?

The rest of the men were cheering. Alaric pointed to her.

"I may not have a cock whore, but I'll be fucking you pretty soon. Very soon."

Something about his tone brought bonnie out of her shock. "What….what's happening?"

"Three." The chime voice cheerfully said.

Kol rose and sat down next to her. "After the countdown, the doors are going to open."

"Like last night?" Bonnie asked. That had been horrible enough.

"Yes. No, not like last night. Today…" He licked his lips before counting. "Today all the doors will open at once but weapons will drop from the ceiling."

Kol pointed up. She could see the cracks of the trap door.

"Unfortunately, we could get a semi-automatic assault rifle or…."

"Remember the spatula?" Jeremy asked the group. "That was the worst ever."

Klaus sneered at her. "You counting the moments bitch? I'm gonna to push you against the bars and shove into you so-"

"Two." The chime voice interrupted.

Kol put his finger on her chin and turned her to face him again. "We could seriously be out gunned. Do you understand?"

Bonnie nodded although she wasn't sure if she could completely comprehend the horror that was about to start.

"Oh, I hope I get the machete!" Jeremy squealed.

"Miss." Elijah said. "You've got to come to me. We'll get through this dark time together."

Tyler chuckled. "Yeah right. You only survived your first battle royal because you got the spear gun."

"Shit, Alaric over there could survive this one if he gets the fucking spear gun!" Klaus added.

Kol caressed her cheek, pulling her face with him. He brought up the strips of cloth. "Once I leave the cell you've got to use these to tie the cell door closed."

"One."

"But that will lock you out…" Bonnie said.

"Yes, but once it's safe that's when your little friend will come in handy. You'll cut through the ties to let me back in."

Bonnie gulped hard. Being responsible for herself was bad enough. "But what if I can't do it quickly enough?"

"You can do it." Kol said.

"Or he'll get zapped to shit." Klaus announced almost gleefully.

"But like no pressure though." Tyler said.

"Weapons first!" The chime voice announced.

Everyone looked up to their trap door what was going to come down?

what do you think? leave me a review and let me know...

I would do a preview but, too tired. *yawns*

guess who gets what and who damon meets with next, a certain blue eyed blonde helps him with his case.

goodnight my little lambs!