The boarding house was in pure chaos. Confusion reigned.

Bonnie waited on the sofa in the living room, feet pulled up under her, feeling small, stranded, disappointed and hungry. Small, because the sofa was large... The cushions near swallowed , because she didn't want to be at the boarding house at all, bearing witness to the macabre. She wanted to be home. At her own home, or even better, back at Witch-House, where she wasn't in anybody's way. Where she didn't have vampires breathing (or not breathing) down her neck... Disappointed, because she'd expected more... And hungry because she hadn't eaten since the night before. Elena had called her up for an impromptu grave-sitting and she hadn't had time to grab breakfast. Elena had summoned and she had responded to the call.

It would be rude now, to leave and grab something to eat. She'd come back, but they'd notice her absence while she was gone and some one of them would make a deal out of it. And Stefan would take it personally. Elena was in tears. Big, globby tears streaked the girl's face as she doubled herself over in the armchair. Alaric, poised on the armrest, gave her one his teacher's-pet pats on the back, then shot her a look that she interpreted as –'well, you're the best friend, you console her.'

How about: 'I'm sorry you're boyfriend's brother got his hand ripped off. He's not going to die, though. He'll just be handicapped for all the rest of his existence unless he can grow it back. There's about ten different spells I could try to help him grow it back, but I won't. Because he's an ass. And I don't waste my magic on asses. Cheer up! Even if he did die, would we miss him? Remember, you still have Stefan… you're actual boyfriend… "I'm sure he's going to be fine," she said instead, putting just enough concern on her face to look sincere. "Damon's strong, and it's just an arm." Could have easily been a head. If Klaus had been serious, it very well could have been.

"Can't you help him, though?"

Yuuuup, but not gonna... "He's dead, Elena. Undead, I mean. I can't heal undead people. And it's not even healing we're talking about. That's regeneration of a limb. A whole limb."

"What about that chain he gave you?" her best friend in the world continued. "Isn't that supposed to be some kind of power booster something? You owe him, Bonnie. And he was trying to help you! He got between you and Klaus and–"

Easy, there… "The chain doesn't work like that!"

It worked exactly like that.

Magwyr, Red Magwyr, Magwyr the Red-Handed, Magwyr the Blood-drinker… She'd done the research the very day Damon had given the chain to her. Went through the archives with a fine comb…

Red Mags, as Stefan called her, was initially a witch out of the pacific. From one of the islands off New Zealand. Then when she'd run into Klaus, or some other seemingly invincible Big Bad, she'd done much the same as Bonnie had and leveled herself up with the power of some dead witches. Not a hundred, but a good bit. With that she'd manage to keep the Big Bad at bay, but ever a cautious woman she'd decided to stock up on some more power. Just in case.

Cue the slaughter of a thousand werewolves and over ten thousand vampires. As it turned out, vampires and werewolves boasted their own form of magic. Vampires, in the form of their blood – power strong enough to reanimate the dead. Werewolves, in their metamorphoses – power enough to grow bone and flesh, fang and fur, and strip it away again in a heartbeat. Popularly, black magic, and it was perfectly harnessable if one knew what one was about.

Mags had definitely known what she was about.

She'd drank the blood of vampires. She'd gone so far as to force them into breeding more vampires just to meet her demands. In effect, she became to vampires what vampires were to humans. Not such a bad idea, as far as Bonnie was concerned. It was good that someone had put the shoe on the other foot, for once.

But then, Mags started eating werewolves. Actually eating them, and given that werewolves were mostly human 99.9 per cent of the time, Bonnie had to put that one in the "cannibalism" column. Big no-no, cannibalism. In any society, in any century.

Downside was, though, that witches, being servants of nature and all that, and black magic being decidedly unnatural, weren't made to keep black magic in themselves. Not for long at least. The power faded and faded in Mags… Until she had found a way to store the power outside of her body. In the diamonds of the chain.

How she'd done it, Bonnie didn't know. What had happened to her – how she'd died, what had become of her family, how the two Salvatores had come by the chain, Bonnie didn't know. Pages had been ripped out of all the histories she'd come across and Stefan, for once, couldn't supply the missing details. 'We found it in the basement', was all he'd said.

What mattered was that the power was there. In each one of those pretty, sparkly diamonds. And she could turn the world upside down, if she wanted to. She was in the big leagues. Borrowed power or not, it was hers now. To be used at her discretion - not to do fancy patch jobs on Damon. Not to do favors, and make rings, and heal vampire boo-boos.

She felt the diamonds burn hot against her skin and leaned forward. "If there was anything I could do, Elena, I'd do it. You know I would." Because I love Damon so much. Never mind that he's the bane of my existence. Never mind that he treats me like some witch for hire, expected to sacrifice myself whenever the situation calls for it. Look at his hair! And his eyes! OMG, isn't he hot? He can kiss my ass and die. "I'm so sorry, Elena. If there was anything–"

A creaking from the staircase distracted her. Stefan, bouncing down… And behind him… Damon. With both his hands. The right one drastically paler than the other, with bulging blue veins snaking under the skin, but there going all the way up to the shoulder, she assumed. His eyes were red, and his whole body seemed thinner. And…

"I like getting limbs ripped off as much as the next guy. Really, I do. But let's not do this again, yeah?" He pulled back a drape and held his re-grown arm into the sunlight. "This is the fourth time that I've had to grow this back. Next time I'll just leave it off..."

Elena leapt out of the chair. Actually leapt and ran towards them… ran… And… At the last minute, she diverted and threw her arms around Stefan. "I'm so glad everything's okay."

"How the fuck is everything okay?" Damon snapped. "There's a reincarnated warlock with hybrid powers handing out aneurysms like they have an expiry date on 'em. I swear, I was blind for two whole minutes. I got my ass handed to me by Klaus. He ripped my hand off. Ripped it off, and everything's okay? He's playing with us as if we're half dead mice! What drug are you on, Elena? Cause I'd like to try it."

"I mean…" she fumbled.

"And what the hell, Bonnie? What the fuck was that?" Damon barked.

How did the conversation reach her? What had she done wrong? She'd waited, despite the protestations of her stomach, being the dutiful and concerned friend. She'd expressed earnest interest in wishing him a speedy recovery, disregarding her refusal to assist in the speeding up of that recovery… Even at the cemetery… after he'd had his hand ripped off and after Klaus had flung him aside like a dirty, mildewed ragdoll… She hadn't done anything. She hadn't laughed, because she could have. She hadn't spat on him. She hadn't kicked dirt in his eyes. She hadn't even said something snarky. Because she could have. The timing would have been inappropriate, but she could have. "What are you talking about?" she asked blandly.

"I'm talking about the freeze-up."

"What freeze-up?"

"Where Klaus moves to rip out your throat and you froze up?

"He wasn't going to rip my throat out."

"He most definitely was. I'd know."

"Because you've written the book on all there is to know about ripping throats out?" She paused, gave him the chance to say something back in his defense, but he abstained. "And your smart-ass idea was to let him rip your hand off?" she pressed. For some reason. Maybe, she was being a bit... bitchy. Whyever he'd jumped into action, concern for their well-being had been at the core of it. Even if "their well-being" was synonymous with "for Elena". Maybe he didn't deserve her driving in the barbs just then. Maybe she could be a smudge more sympathetic, considering he'd just had his arm torn off defending them. She should at least admire that he'd had the mojo to grow back his arm all on his own. No small task, that. "News flash, Damon. I've got the power of a hundred witches and Mags' talisman. I can handle Klaus."

Damon sighed. "Okay, Witch. You are the lord and master of the universe," he said wearily, pressing his palm to the glass. Testing the feeling in it, apparently. "None may stand before you. You are wisdom and power in flesh. Now…" he turned to shoot her a crazy-eyed leer, "Exactly how fucking close are you to resurrecting Geraldine? Whatever the plan is, accelerate it. Cause this shit is getting stale. The next time Klaus pops up, I'm just going to sit back and watch the show."

"Voyeur."

Silence fell. She hadn't meant to say it like that. So… suggestively. She shouldn't have tried the smirk. That was his thing. And there'd been nothing to suggest, really. It was his reaction that made it all so… awkward.

His hand had gone through the window pane it had been pressed against. Not as if he'd punched it or anything. Just that, instead of leaning against it, his hand went through. And his recovery wasn't quick at all. His mouth opened, then snapped shut. He tried smiling to cover it up, then smirking, then… Then he just stopped and stared at her.

Stefan was staring at her, glaring, for some reason. Elena was too. Alaric… Alaric was looking at his shoes.

"What?"

"Nothing..." Stefan said.

Damon's eyes went everywhere. Down to his feet, up to the ceiling, at the wreckage of the window. "Let's reboot the axis. What say we move on with the conversation? I was saying something about- Wait, where's McConaughey?"

"Who?" Alaric asked.

"Ghosts of girlfriends past?"

"He went to the blood bank, to swipe some more blood for you," Stefan answered, with a tone Bonnie didn't get. Something big was going on just on the periphery of her awareness. Something suspect.

"Like I'd drink that," Damon snorted. "He's probably putting 'Vervain, High-Concentrate' in it as we speak."

Bonnie frowned. "He wouldn't -"

"Because Jeremy's perfect and innocent, and I'm evil and would deserve it even if he had," he drawled.

"You took the words out of my mouth."

"I'll put something in your mouth-"

Eww... Bonnie cringed.

"Food," he followed up, too late. "Food. I meant food." Damon floundered in his perch on the windowsill and fixed his attention on the sunset outside. "I'm talking about putting food in her mouth. Not... She's hungry! I can hear her stomach growling. Just feed her, somebody, before she gets gassy... And colicky. Even more full of hot air... And where the fuck is my arm, by the way? The old one? Anybody pick it up, or we just left it in the mud?" He glared at each one of them, as if daring them to say - We put it in a jar...

No one had, of course. The situation hadn't allowed.

"Let's everyone walk all over Damon..." he muttered under his breath, sliding off his temporary seat and snatching his keys off the coffee table. "He won't mind. No need to show him gratitude. He's easy like that."

AN: gosh, this is fun. Thanks to the reviewers. Nice to know that somebody's reading it. And enjoying it!

Big thanks going out!

About 2 more chapters 2moro or sunday.

Had to use the "easy like that" line.

Bonnie's a little out of character? I don't know. . Bonnie's way harder to write than Damon, somehow...

(unrelated: Just finished the audiobook to "the heroes" by joe abercrombie. Excellent. so if you have time, and nothing to read/listen to...)