AN: Sorry for the time delay. Life interrupts with its duties and various tediums. If anybody's still reading this, I can probably forewarn you to just let it build up a little. And read it four chapters at a time or something for maximum story benefit, otherwise it might get confusing. Sorry. First time trying to write something and no real practise in plot structuring. Sorry, seriously. I have four other chapters written, one I have to send to the recycle bin, and 3 that don't really fit anywhere now… Tchh.

For this chapter's opening half, think that scene from "What Lies Beneath" where Pfeiffer goes evil and seductive. That's what I was thinking, at least. I now realise why Bamon is so hard to write and keep people in character. The Bonnie I'm trying to get is mostly the one that drugged? and tried to mindf—k Luka. The half-bitchy-half cute badass version.

"Bonnie?"

Fuucckkk…. She groaned, rolled, snuggled in deeper, pressed her face into the bed and tried to fill her lungs with his scent. She shut her eyes, tight, tighter, and waited to fall back into her fluffy, pink dreamland. Her steamy, hot dreamland. Her sweaty, sexy dreamland… One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats and fuck, she was awake. "It's just Stefan," Mags cooed, "Not important. Go back to sleep. You need the rest. Go back to–"

"Bonnie." He wasn't asking now. He knew she was awake and he needed something, probably. Wanted her to do something. Wanted her to bring somebody back from the dead, or make a ring for yet another vampire, or– "Use a tracking spell to help him find his toothbrush. Or find Elena's toothbrush. Elena needs somebody to wipe the snot from her nose. Your turn. Go help Elena with the toilet paper. They need somebody to put their shit on. You don't mind a little shit, do you?"

"Yeah?" She answered but her voice was muffled. Muffled in the softest, softest of pillows, oh so feathery smooth against her cheek, like baby skin. Feathery. Expensive… Her throat hurt though; it was raspy… and hoarse... as if she'd been screaming…

"Jeremy needs–"

"What?" she sat up, the covers and sheets tumbled away. The cold, late summer air assaulted and offended her, making her mood just a little bit worse. The bright light was jarring, even though the drapes did their best to fight it off. Her head hurt. Her stomach growled; she was hungry, insatiable… As she turned away from the window she could swear her brain was a dented marble rattling free and loose. It hurt so much. It hurt worse than a hangover. Worse than the time she'd had that cavity when she was six. Worse than the time her father had backed his pick-up truck over her foot. No… It hurt just about that much… as if someone had accidentally backed a pick-up truck over her head. "What does Jeremy need?" she asked, adrift behind the red shadow of her eyelids. "A bottle of expressed breastmilk? I'm not lactating at the moment."

"Bonnie?"

"What, Stefan?" she sighed finally opening her eyes. Stefan… muscle tee, jeans… She'd been meaning to ask him something. Something doubtlessly unimportant, because she couldn't remember what at all. Something stupid probably, like who did his hair? Or something like- "Hey, when did you get back?"

"You don't remember me coming back?" he asked, doing his sexy version of a frown. He was worried, she could tell. He only combined the 'half-squint' and 'arm-fold' when he was worried. "You don't remember the two-headed shark?" He pulled out a little vial with probably a millilitre of blood in it. "The half-digested baby cow in the stomach? We put the heart in the blender and then sieved it– how can you not remember that? I'll remember that if I live to be a thousand. Two thousand even, and… you're looking at me as if I'm talking about a unicorn. You seriously can't remember anything at all about it?"

Hmmm? It was all so vague. "Kinda, but not really." Why was it so cold? Her legs were wet. Sticky, almost. And… "Where's Damon?" Damon. Damon. Damon. Damon. Damon is missing. "Is he back yet? Where's Damon? Bring me Damon!"

"Bonnie…"

Where was he? He'd been with her just minutes ago, hadn't he? He'd been between her legs just seconds ago, hadn't he? Where was he? Where am I? Who–

"He still in Europe," Stefan interrupted. "He got the finger and the eye. He's going after Elijah and gonna try to be stealthy and steal the sword… I don't know what Damon understands by the word "stealthy" though, so he might actually just be dead…"

"No!" Somebody smashed a window. Pieces of shattered glass floated slowly through the air, looking pretty. "I need him."

"Think about what you're saying."

"I want his blood to try the teleporting thing."

"No, that's not something you should–"

"Can I have yours, then?"

Oh. His face somersaulted, then he frowned harder than ever before. He frowned so hard…

Make it stick like that.

"It's nothing too major, Stefan," she said, smiling for a reason unknown to her. A slimy smile. She could tell it was slimy and she didn't even have to look at it. "Slit your wrist over a cup, bleed for five minutes - give or take. That's all. I won't be… indecent."

One of his eyebrows shot up, and his mouth twitched. Annoyed? Something else? His eyes swept over her, then diverted to a painting on the wall. Some stupid countryside painting… "I'm not getting in the middle of this thing with you and Damon and the… trade of body fluids... If you ask Caroline, I'm sure–"

"If I have to feed on Caroline I might as well go to the source and start biting down on the Easter Bunnies with you." Harsh. "Caroline's blood is diet coke compared to yours and you know it. I need ripper blood. I thought you were supposed to be the real ripper?" she tilted her neck and let the hair fall down her naked back… "Rip something." Moving almost on its own power, her hand reached out from under the sheet and she hooked a finger in the waistband of the vampire's jeans… pulled him closer… "Rip something, Stefan."

"Okay… I'm gonna–" He swivelled out of her grip.

"Damn. Just break his feet or something. How bout we slit his throat over the tub? That'll work. Then we burn him to dust…"

"Damon might mind, though."

"Let's just set him on fire. No evidence. We'll sweep out the ashes."

And a slight sting of smoke in her nostrils–

"Bonnie!" Stefan shouted in her ear.

He'd slapped her too. At least it felt like that. She was spinning. Or the world was spinning and she was the only thing standing still. Down was up, up was down. There was vomit in her throat–

"Bonnie!" he shouted again, louder, if that was possible. "Snap out of it!"

Snap out of what? "…what?"

"What day is it today?"

Well, shit.

"Whose room is this, Bonnie? Try to think. Look around you. Where are you right now?"

Shit…

"Snap out of it! Focus! Think!"

No fucking way...

"What happened to your clothes, Bonnie? Explain to me what's going on."

He passed her a tissue with a mocking, teasing grin. "It's not that bad. It's the Damon effect. You are not the first girl to wake up lost, naked and confused in Damon's bed–"

"Not helping," she said between sniffles.

"I know, but if you can't laugh about it…"

There wasn't anything to laugh about.

"Come on, technically you were compelled. In an indirect kinda way. He gave you the necklace to break you down to this! He's played this whole thing out in his head, though I guess he figured that this strip-down would have happened sometime while he was around. Didn't count on being miles and miles away…"

"I want to die."

"Why?" Stefan shrugged, being ever so casual. "Because you locked yourself in my brother's bedroom while he was away, took your clothes off, or burnt them off as I'm gathering from the ash, and lost yourself in a sexual fantasy for two days? It's not a big deal. A little embarrassing, maybe–"

"Two whole days?" The last thing she remembered was… Damon had broken her phone. Then she'd given him a micro aneurysm. Then he'd kissed her. Then she'd given him a macro aneurysm. Then he'd left for his flight. Then she'd tested her version of the teleporting spell on an actual Guinea pig and it had exploded on her in a rain of fur, blood and rodent guts. Then she'd gone to the guest bathroom to have a shower… dropped the soap and stepped on it… slipped… hit her head.

And voila. Two day masturbatory sojourn in Damon's bed. All expenses paid, courtesy the ever gracious Red Magwyr.

Good old aunty Mags, always looking out for her.

She'd stripped herself of every shred of clothing except the damn necklace. Totally shocking, that. Her fingers toyed with the pendants disgustedly. She should throw it into the ocean. Or not even there, where some underwater explorer was like to find it. She should throw it down a sewer. She should throw it into an aluminium smelter pot. Or a plasma changer. Better yet, she should hang herself with it. "What's your stand on euthanasia?"

"Come on? So you had a two day sabbatical. Big deal!"

"It's a big fucking deal!" "There is NO way out of this! He's going to smell me in here when he comes back! He's a vampire with super smell–" Bonnie cringed and pulled the sheets tighter around herself. Die, die, die, die… Could her heart just stop? Was that too much to ask? Would she ever be able to look Stefan in the eyes again? Ever? Would she ever be able to look herself in the eyes again? Would she ever be able to look anyone in the eyes ever again? Or would they see through her? All her vainglorious, blowhard morality shit… They'd see what she'd done and laugh. Or cry. They'd pity her, probably. Little as she deserved it…

Best someone dig out her eyes. And cut off her fingers too, while they were at it. Not Stefan, someone else. A butcher or somebody with experience cutting off fingers and gouging out eyes. A war vet or something.

Or Klaus. Klaus would do it for her. Forget the Geraldine spell and all that bullshit. She'd let Klaus poke her eyes out and chop off her fingers.

Or kill her. That would be simplest. Kill her and throw her disgusting carcass in an unmarked grave. Or open well. If she did nothing but wait for him, he'd come and kill her. For sure. He'd kill them all.

"You're overreacting," Stefan continued saying, in a way that was supposed to be consoling. She was not consoled. "What you did is a normal part of the reaction to the hormonal changes that you're going through," he continued, looking somewhere over her shoulder. "Sexual… urges are a healthy part of… Okay, I'm not having the conversation with you. I'm too old and yet not old enough. The level of awkward is too high. But the point is– The point is–" his eyes caught on the curtain blowing through the window she'd broke. "The point is that you now finally realise on your own that this symbiosis thing you have going on with Magwyr is dangerous. You're a witch. Witches don't slip in the shower and crack their skulls. This time you lost two days. Next time she tries something, it could be a week. And who know what you do. Who you… attack…"

"Sorry."

"No…" Stefan pulled his legs up under him Indian style. He'd make a good boy-scout commander-leader. He'd totally rock the shit out of sitting Indian style at a campsite fire. "You don't have to apologize–"

"I'm so ashamed of myself. I'm at rock bottom."

"I'm your 'rock-bottom'? Of all the people who could have come through that door? Think Tyler. Think… Think Alaric."

Well, yes… Alaric would have been worse.

"And besides, it's not like you were taking a crap or something eww. The whole 'naked witch-girl in a bed-sheet' routine was hot. Like super hot. If I wasn't crazy in love with Elena, I'd be totally cool with being your vampire blood-stud. You sell it very well. It's like – I'm gonna bleed your bone marrow dry, but in the most erotic way possible. You won't even notice."

Bonnie sniffed, and pulled the sheets, his sheets tighter around her. "You're a good friend, Stefan. Like a guidance counsellor."

"But more dead, supernaturally reanimated, and better looking."

"Yeah."

"You see how I omitted the 'I told you so' part in all this? I'm the kind of good friend who's not going to rub your face in it. A bad friend might use the moment to try to blackmail you into giving up the talisman. A bad friend would say something like 'give me the cursed talisman, or else'."

"And I'd ask 'or else what?'" Whatever Mags had done, she was still only a figment of a consciousness trapped in a piece of jewellery. She'd made her slip in the bathroom, or she may not have. That was all up in the air. Either way, no real harm had been done. She might have a concussion, but besides that she was okay. And so what if she'd had a…a… a spaz moment where she'd not been one hundred per cent control of her bodily functions? Who cares? "Or else what?"

"I actually have no follow up for that," he smiled. "I really just want you to go back to being the normal, not-brainwashed Bonnie that we're all accustomed to. If it's so hard for you to realise what this is doing to you, even after... everything, then I–"

"Open the door, Bonnie!"

Jeremy. Fuck.

Stefan used that single moment of distraction to make a grab for the chain. He came probably within an inch of her, half inch tops, before she levelled him with an aneurysm.

And… fuck. Stefan flopped over backwards and landed on the floor with a thud.

What to do?

She couldn't go out.

She couldn't let them come in either; she didn't have clothes. Damon's clothes would be there somewhere…in the wardrobe-looking thing. She could borrow something… except she really, really, really, really, really, really didn't want to.

"Just open the door!" Jeremy shouted, rattling the wood.

"Or I'll break it down!" Caroline, too. Recently, the used to be cheerleader was getting off on acting the bouncer. One good aneurism, could cure that…

"Taking orders now, from the Gilbert prince?"

"Shut up, Mags." Stefan was out cold. Not looking likely to come around any time soon. She'd never been able to do that before – K.O. a vampire. "Help me, Mags. This is your fault. You know it's your fault. Help me or I flush you down the toilet. I swear, I'll flush you."

"You wouldn't. You need me for the spell."

"What spell? Geraldine? I fucking care about that now? I'm naked in Damon's bed. The only upside to this is that he's not in the country. I'm supposed to be working on Geraldine, but now I'll have to wash all his sheets, and vacuum the place. And deodorize it. And all that's after I Lysol my hands. And shampoo his carpets. You're a sick, fucking woman, Mags. A sick, fucking woman."

The door rattled.

"Bonnie. One minute and I break this door down? All right?" Caroline.

"Whatever the problem is, you can tell us." Elena. Then, "What did you do to Stefan, Bonnie? There was glass breaking. And Tyler said he saw smoke coming through the window."

"Mags!"

"Flush me then. See what I care. I'm dead, remember?"

"I fucking swear, Mags! I will flush you into the sewage system."

"Good luck teleporting on your own. Thirty forty rats down the road, you might make some progress."

"Just show it to me. Teach me the spell and I forgive you 100%"

"You'll need Stefan's blood."

No sooner said than done. The number one use of telekinesis – floating feathers. The number two use – slitting open vampire veins.

It was very different, bleeding Stefan. She could almost taste the rabbit fur. Hint of moose. Essence of racoon. By two mouthfuls, she'd had her fill. So much for the ripper, pale and unconscious, he actually looked like a high school student. Good and innocent… and molested, but anyway… Whatever.

No time for guilt.

She had two choices – disappear into thin air or aneurism everybody, human, vampire, ghost whisperer, werewolf, everybody. "Okay, Mags. Let's do this. Teleport. Take me home."

And this isn't home. This is like the opposite of home.

Somebody was talking to her, but her eyes couldn't adjust, the room was too dark. There was piano music playing somewhere, and a chandelier flickering on low. A soft murmur of clinking dishes and voices. The smell of food. "Ma'am… Miss… There's a dress code, miss."

And… she was in a restaurant. she was still wrapped up in the fucking bed sheet. Fuck. "Mags, for the sweet love–"

"… dress code, Ma'am!"

Then it came.

She felt the smirk before she saw it.

And it's in the ceiling fan now.

"Hey, Damon." He was sitting right there in front of her. Elijah, too. The two of them, at a table seated like gentlemen. A white, fake-looking classic medieval sword set between their empty dishes.

Damon didn't respond. He just sat there, frozen.

"Okay…" Elijah, put down the cup of tea he'd had to his lips. "Consider me and my interest piqued."