7.22, the clock read. A Felix Cat clock; the black tail swished and counted the seconds down.

Time flies when you're having fun.

Hours had passed with him shut up in that room. Hours had passed since he'd seen her, too. Some of the insane panic had left him, some of the blood stains had evaporated. Bit by bit, his liver was growing back, restoring the familiar, dull weight in his right side under his ribs. His balance was still a little off, and there was the occasional stab of pain in his eyeballs when he tried to look to the right, but otherwise… he was on the mend. As was she.

She was looking at herself in the mirror again, turning her head at different angles, tilting her chin… Going up on tiptoes to get in closer. Against the stark white tile of the floor, she was a vision of colour in Elijah's blood stained, used-to-be-white shirt. She spared him a glance out of the corner of her eyes for a fraction of a second before she returned her attention to herself. "Of all the men I ever imagined being half naked with in a hotel room, how come I end up with you?"

"You imagine being half naked in hotel rooms with men beside me? Unbreak my heart." He added a smirk at the end, to make himself look less scared than he was. He'd suffered enough at the hands of a woman for one day. With Bonnie, he'd get a kiss out of it, maybe, if she felt like… but pain was pain in the end. No such thing as good pain. She could kill him right there in that room. Burn him to ash and flush his ashes down the toilet like the burnt remains of a pet goldfish. She'd tried to ignite him once before… that time at the Carnival. It had hurt, but that time, he'd known she wouldn't have gone through with it. He'd known that Bonnie. He'd known that Bonnie's limits. He'd known that Bonnie's peeves. This Bonnie? "Killer nosebleed you had this morning. Had me going for a while. But I'm glad to see you still in the world of the living."

She shrugged. "You know how it is."

"Not really, no." He closed the door behind him. Elijah was on the other side, lurking with his victim like a sex offender, listening in to everything they'd say. A plywood door wasn't going to do much in way of privacy. The old fuck could probably seethrough concrete, what with his Clark Kent jaw and DC comic hairdo. "Explain it to me," he said, propping himself up against the door ever so casually. "I lost a couple thousand brain cells today so forgive me if I'm a little slow on the uptake."

"Nothing to forgive," she flashed him a quick smile, "Everybody knows you're a little slow."

"I gave that to you."

"That and a cursed necklace."

"It looks good on you."

"Mags thinks so, too. So I guess once the two of you like it, that's all that matters."

His arms folded against his chest. Defensively? He didn't know. "You can always take it off."

"Can't."

"Won't, you mean?"

"Can't. After you tried that stunt last time, I'm not allowed to take it off."

"Not allowed?"

She grunted. "If I'm going to do this, I have to go all the way. I can't take her off and put her back on. You wanted it on me anyway, so you win."

"I win what?"

"Whatever game you were playing." She turned away from the mirror over the face basin, allowing him his first complete look at her. The pupil of one of her eyes had gone red, the other remained muddily green. Streaks of red ran through her hair, contrasting in an ugly way with the black. The eyebrows were higher, more arched, sharper. A mole, no… He zoomed to her, cupping his face in her hands… There it was. On her right cheek, under the red eye – the scar. Magwyr's scar. A small, almost negligible imperfection, a half-moon line running under her eye…

"Bonnie!"

She pushed him off easily. "You win!" she shouted.

"Win what?" Damon straightened himself. "You think I wanted you to get possessed by Mags? Take off the chain!"

"I can't! I need it! I need–"

"You have the power of a hundred witches inside you–"

"And I can't use it! I don't know how to use it! Not their power, not Mags' power. Not even Elijah's blood. I don't know what I'm doing!"

"Bonnie–"

"You win!" she cut him off. "You win, Damon. I'm not trying to blame you for anything. I'm not asking you to feel bad about anything. Out of everyone, despite the fact that you're a real dick, you actually step up to the plate and do what needs to get done. So right now, even though I kinda hate you, I'm gonna say thanks. Thanks for giving me the chance to make good. I'm going to work with the idea that I can get past hating you. Whatever I did to make you hate me, I apologize. Let's grow up and move on and focus all the hate on Klaus."

Something was wrong.

He wasn't speaking to Magwyr the Red. This was Bonnie. Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie. He took a step back, then two steps forward. Then he stopped. "What are you doing, Bonnie?"

"What you want me to do," she answered. Her face was almost happy. Almost smiling. Almost lifelike. "What everybody needs me to do. Let's face it, you had it right all along. I'm a shitty witch. I'm a master at floating feathers and making lights blink. I give you aneurysms and set you on fire, but when the time comes to step up to the plate, I fuck up. I let my own grandmother die. I let Jenna die. Meanwhile I let Klaus do his ritual and become a hybrid. I told you to trust me, everyone was depending on me and I fucked it up."

"Elijah–"

"I could've done it without Elijah's help, but I chickened out. I got selfish, and because of that people died. Stefan had to suffer, Stefan's victims had to suffer, because I didn't deliver–"

He shook her at the shoulders. "Save your confessions for a priest or a cab driver. I–"

"I'm sorry," she put her hands on his, "but I'm taking responsibility for it. Better late than never."

"You can't do more than you're already doing. You have to allow yourself–"

"Magwyr can do it." Her mismatched eyes fixed on his. Her frown-prone mouth was set firm. There were littler changes that he hadn't notice before. Magwyr's freckles for one, barely noticeable against Bonnie's skin, but they were there… on her cheeks. Spots of red were already coming in to her good eye…

"Bonnie…"

"Magwyr can do it. She has what it takes to get it done. She can summon Geraldine, and even if that doesn't work, she has a spell that will do almost as much damage. She has more than five centuries' experience with all this macabre and magic. Half the things she tries to explain to me, I don't even understand. I've been at this for less than one year, and I'm slowing her down, so I've come up with–"

"Bonnie… You're letting her–"

"I'm giving her full control," she nodded. "She needs to be in the driver seat, otherwise we're all going to die. I'm going to step back and hand over the reins, and when it's done, I'll regain control–"

Is she stupid?

"Are you stupid?" he shook her. "She already has too much control over you. Your personality is being chipped away. You already have limited control and you think it's going to get better if you willingly hand over your body to her? Have you not read Harry Potter? What you're essentially trying to do is return Voldermort to a body. Remember what happened to Quirrel?"

"She can kill Klaus!" Tears were in her eyes. She pulled away from him and made slow, trudging steps toward the massive bathtub. She sat on the lip, wiping tears from her eyes before they could fall on their own. "She can do it. We need her."

"We need you."

"She can kill Klaus."

"Fuck Klaus. Half the days, I'm not sure why we even bother. The dude hasn't shown his face in ages. If you give up control of your body, Bonnie… You won't get it back until…"

"Until a hundred years later. That's the agreement me and Mags–"

"Mags and I," he corrected.

She laughed, weakly. "That's the agreement Mags and I have come to. All that remains is for the two of us to come to an agreement on one more thing."

"Something like?"

"Me." She fixed her eyes somewhere over his head. "I'll need you to control me."

"Control you?" he raised an eyebrow. "Explain what you mean by that."

She sighed. "I know you and Mags have your… thing. Or had your thing. And I know that that was way in the past. And I know about you and Elena. And while I don't condone your active hounding of your brother's girlfriend, it's your prerogative and I don't want to interfere with whatever might work out for you later down that road, but…"

"But?"

"I need you to– I want you to help me out with this. This is way out of Jeremy's territory. Help me. Mags'll do anything you ask her to do. She'll be your own personal witch. The best bodyguard blood can buy. Anything you want her to do–"

"Like a Private Dancer?"

She mumbled something and turned her body to an angle. Suddenly interested in traffic on the highway. "Just keep me from turning into some public usage sexpot."

"My own personal sexpot? For a hundred years… If I understand it correctly, that's what you're offering me, right? In trade for keeping you from becoming a notoriously promiscuous lady of the night." He hitched his eyebrows up, stretched… waited a while to let the awkwardness percolate. "But there's this one problem. Why would I ever want to have sex with a woman I killed?"

"Because despite the fact that you killed her, she wants you still."

"But I don't want her. That's why I killed her. Her face annoyed me."

"Well she won't have her face, she'd have my face. More or less."

"Your face annoys me."

She scoffed. "As if, Damon. I know I'm on your list."

"What list?"

"Your checklist of girls to sleep with."

"If you're on the list, you're at the bottom. Or way, way down… Matt's mom was higher than you. Caroline's mom is number 200, so you're probably on the back-up list..."

"You'd sleep with the sheriff?"

"Why not? She has a certain lesbian look to her, but once the parts function…"

"You'd do Caroline's mom, before you'd do me?"

"Caroline's mom never set me on fire."

"I'm sorry about that."

"And I can only assume she'd be a better lay than you. I know for certain that she's had sex at least once before. Virgins don't really do it for me."

"Who says I'm a virgin?"

"The phosphoric stamp on your forehead in capital letters?"

"I'm with Jeremy."

"I know."

"So who says I'm a virgin?"

"Bonnie, you could start an abstinence club. There's not one sexual thing about you. The first thing that comes to mind when I see you is Quaker Oats."

"You remind me of chewing gum."

"Gum?"

"You know, gum? Gets stuck under you shoe and you have to scrape it off?"

"Make up your mind," he mumbled, folding his arms and leaning his weight against the faucet. "You were just offering to be my sex slave for a hundred years, now you say you want to scrap me off…"

She turned again, silent for a moment. Pensive, proud, shy… "Fuck me, Damon."

"Hmm?"

"Fuck me. While I'm still me."

Play it cool. "Now?"

"Yeah. Mags is giving me a grace period. I figured I'd use it for a bath but since you're here, I thought…"

"You put this deal to Stefan?"

She didn't answer. Instead she eased herself up over and into the large ceramic bathtub. "Is this good for you?"

"While I'm not opposed to bathtub sex, ideally, there'd be curtains…"

"Shy?"

No, they were too high up. And the lack of curtains had a certain appeal to it. "I'm not so much in the mood. My testicles have to re-descend after my play-date today."

"Come on," she sat up, "I'll kink it up for you."

"You wouldn't know how."

"Tell me how."

"I'm thinking about it."

"Would it help if I was wet?"

"Yeah."

She turned the tap.

"Blood bath, get it?" He opened the tap wider and watched the blood pour into the tub, hot and steaming. Klaus might be a freak of nature…" he filled a handful of blood and brought it to his lips. Perfect. It was fresh, diluted with alcohol… vodka, maybe… with just a hint of vanilla… and coconut. He put his mouth to the tap. Wow. It was the cocktail of all cocktails… There was some werewolf in it. Four or five different werewolves… Some witch blood too, two witches. Elijah's blood… Two other vampires… Something otherworldly that he could only guess at. And a whole lot of vodka. Pipe-born Heaven. "How do you think–," he swallowed and tried to wipe his chin, licking his fingers. "How do you think something like this works?"

Bonnie was still in the tub, her face blank and expressionless, not looking at him or anything in particular. She wasn't even looking out the glass at the blinking automobile lights snaking up the congested highway. She was just blank. "There'd be a tank, I guess."

"A tank?"

"Somewhere accessible enough for him to keep it filled up."

"Classy."

"I don't see how it would work, though," she frowned as the tub filled around her. "As a vampire, I get that he drinks blood, and I get why he'd want to have a large amount of blood on stand-by, but why bathe in it? Does he bathe in it and then drink it? That's not hygienic. And it makes less sense to bathe in it and not drink it. If you go to the trouble of having a blood bath, what's the point of rinsing it off? This is disgusting."

Damon wanted to smile. He wanted to laugh. Klaus might be his hero. It wasn't like the guy only ever took baths in blood. There was another tap with running hot water. But this setup… Nice. Sexy as fucking hell.

He squatted down on his knees with a sigh. His priorities were getting muddled in a fast and dangerous way. One minute he was drawing up blueprints with Elijah and snuffing girls out, the next he was drinking blood and vodka out of a bathroom pipe. He'd started the day with one sole desire to kill Klaus and how many ever hours later, he wanted to shake the guy's hand. None of them spoke, and for a long tense while, there was only the sound of blood splashing on ceramic.

"I still can't figure out how this works," she said, an uncomfortable smile on her face. "I don't understand what he gets out of it."

I have an idea… There were little flecks of blood in her eyelashes. The ends of her hair were starting to get wet. Even as the blood level rose lapping against her thighs, even as the ends of her shirt clung to the curve of her ass, even as her chest heaved as she breathed in the alcohol vapour… He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the world, the drum of her heartbeat, the sound of the air going in and out of her lungs… For half a second, he felt his fangs grow out and his eyes darken. Just half a second. "Why are you still sitting here in this?" He looked down at his toes. At the legs of the bathtub. At the congested traffic miles away. "What are you doing to me, Bonnie? We have to go up against Klaus. We have to deal with his witches. You and Elijah can actually take care of yourselves, I'm the weak one here. I'm the vulnerable one here. And you're coming at me with a sledgehammer…"

"I'm not doing anything to you, Damon."

"You're destroying me."

"Me? I'm heartbeats away from giving my body over to Mags, and I'm doing that for you, and Elena and Mystic Falls and the whole fucking world. As soon as I give in, Mags takes over and I'm gone. She's promised to trade back with me after a century. One whole century, and I know that doesn't sound like too much to you, but I'm seventeen. Seventeen. If I kept my grades up, I was looking at a car for my big One Eight. Now… well, who the fuck knows what kind of vehicles there'll be in twenty-one eleven? By that time, the entire human race could mutate. I could come back and end up surrounded by mutants. Or aliens. Or I could not come back at all. I might not want to come back. You know why I'm still sitting here, Damon?" she slapped at the blood and made a show of licking her fingers clean. Then she slumped down and let it cover her. She stayed submerged for a second, a second and a half, and came back up drenched with her mouth puffed up and full. With him staring a hole through her, she swallowed. "I'm still sitting here, Damon, because I'm starting to accept the idea of being a monster. To kill a monster, you have to become a bigger, meaner monster. Klaus is the monster du jour and guess what, I'm going to become such an insane beast... I'm going to outmatch him. If he kills one of mine, I'm going to kill ten of his. If he wants to bathe in blood, I'll bathe in blood too. I'll eat blood, I'll drink blood. I'll sleep in it. I'll dream about it. He likes it when we're afraid of him? I'll make him afraid of me. And not just him. Every fucking thing that goes bump in the night. I don't know what's real from what isn't, but down to the fucking tooth fairy; if tooth fairies are real I want them scared shitless. If leprechauns are real, I want them scared shitless. Even unicorns. If unicorns are real–"

"You want them scared shitless. Got it."

She met his eyes with her mismatched ones. "I'm going to kill them all. Mags'll kill them all."

He swallowed. "So I gather."

"And?"

"And nothing."

"Nothing to say? Now at the end? I'm moments away from unleashing hell and you have nothing to say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything."

"I'm distracted."

"By?"

You. "The view. A lot of traffic. Seeing it's Halifax, Canada. Never knew they got this much traffic up here. I'm shocked."

She stood suddenly, angrily, and the kaleidoscope shifted again.

Had he ever wanted a woman more? So much that it became a need? It had taken him so long to get to this point, and now when she was standing right there I front of him… A century? Without ever having her?

In three moves he had her naked and pressed against the glass wrenching the shirt and the towel away from her. "Waste not…" he muttered as he licked the thickening blood out of her collarbone, "want not." Her skin was hot. Like fire on his tongue. Hotter than he'd expected, but he'd been prepared. He kissed her, up her neck until he was at her mouth. Her lips are like… Her lips are like… He couldn't think, all his blood had gone down to his cock, painfully.

'Is this how it feels?' her thought cut into his mind like lightning. 'I'll have to ask Elena. Or Caroline. Or any girl over sixteen.

Her mouth tasted like Vodka and blood. He bit his own tongue and pushed it into her mouth.

'Damon. Damon. Damon. Damon. Damon. Damon. Damon. Damon.' He opened his eyes, broke the kiss and pulled back, just for a second. Just to see her pull forward and seek him out. 'Damon!' He pressed himself back to her. The back of her head thumped against the glass. 'Damon!' her thighs came up against his waist. Her feet hooked in to the waistband of his jeans…He pulled away. Took two mental and physical steps back.

'I'm not doing it right.' Her voice was pure panic. 'I'm not doing it right! I don't know what I'm doing! I don't know what I'm doing! And he knows... He can smell out virgins a mile back. God! I'm his virgin of the month. Virgin of the week! And I'm not even a good virgin. Should have watched a porno. How hard would it have been to watch one? Now I'm like a Mormon virgin. This is rock bottom, Bonnie. This is shame. Can't even blame it on Mags because Mags knows how to fuck a man. Disappear, Bonnie. Disappear.' "What am I doing wrong?" Her voice was half moan, half whimper, half pleading whisper.

"Nothing." She wasn't doing anything wrong. It was all on him. He was reaching too far into her. Listening in to her thoughts, feeling every single doubt, emotion, hesitation… "I want you." His eyes took in the full image of her wet, naked body. Took in the shape of her breasts, the diamonds on her neck, the wet patch of hair where her legs met, the tight, toned muscles of her legs and her ass, the shape of her face more exposed now with her hair wet and slicked back than he'd ever seen it before.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Turn around." His voice broke horribly. "Face the other way, otherwise I'll come before I even get inside you."

"Damon..." her eyes held all the questions she didn't put voice to.

"Trust me. Put your hands on the glass. Use your elbows if you want and spread your legs a little."

She turned, giving him the two seconds he needed to catch his breath and get out of his clothes. He pressed himself against her, letting her feel the length of him against her back. "This has to go inside you, Bonnie," he whispered into her ear, licking the lobe and sending a hand around her waist to settle on her mound. Her ass pushed back against him, then her hips jerked forward erratically. She was a ball of tight, tense, panicking muscle. One of her hands came down and covered his. His cock settled in between the cheeks of her ass and he couldn't help the moan that escaped him. In a fluid well practiced movement, he readjusted the position of their hands, got his over hers, and guided her fingers to her opening.

"Damon…" Why didn't he have something to record this with? She would never say his name like that again. Never quite like that.

He pushed her own fingers up inside of her. One of his own fingers was there with hers too. Her hips pressed down on her hands, and he pushed their fingers up to meet the movement. He kissed her somewhere behind her ear, then thrust their fingers up into her again. "Bonnie..." I love you, I love you, I love you…

"Damon…" she nodded. Her voice was shaky, so different to the usual command, the usual haughtiness. "We're gonna have sex?"

Yes. Because good things come to those who wait and I've been waiting for this since I've been born. "I'm 90% sure at this point."

"I'm having sex with Damon…"

So cute. If he had a heart, she'd break it with her cuteness. What could a mortal man do with Bonnie Bennett? "Seems like."

"Tell me what to do."

"Don't set me on fire at any point. Because it's going to hurt, and it's a virgin thing, not a 'let's set Damon on fire' thing." As if I'd even notice being on fire.

"Okay."

"And if I bite you… It's because I can't help it. I'm trying really hard not to, but I might bite you. I might. I'm trying really hard to control this, but I want you in ways that might be illegal." He kissed her behind her neck, licking a spot clear of blood. She was just so fucking… edible.

He'd vowed, hadn't he, never to return to that snivelling, willowy, ass-licking, slipper-carrying, paper-fetching version of himself? Hadn't he sworn it?

So what the fuck am I doing?

Mags-controlled Bonnie he could deal with. There was a thick, thick, thick fucking line between Mags–Bonnie and normal Bonnie. Mags–Bonnie would use him for his blood and his cock and put him back on the shelf until she had further requirements. Normal Bonnie was the version that wasn't supposed to give him the time of day. Normal Bonnie was the one that hated his guts. Normal Bonnie wouldn't piss on him to put a fire out; Normal Bonnie would be the one who'd started the fire in the first place.

So what was she doing in his arms? He'd planned the seduction, but he hadn't planned on what to do if the plan had actually worked. "I love you," he whispered too low for her to here as he pressed the head of his cock to her entrance. She tensed, and he waited. Waited…

Don't wait, you fucking ass. Stop mumbling. You want this, right? You like this. You're the kind of fish who likes the feel of a hook in the mouth. You can't live a day without some woman twisting you around her finger. Go on. Fall in love with this girl. Go on and do it, you fucking jackass.

I don't deserve her. I don't.

Of course you don't. Look at her. Fresh, young, powerful. She had her full life ahead of her. She surrounded herself by everyone who's the complete opposite of you and what you stand for. She wants normal. She wants prom, and college, and a family. People like Jeremy, people who still attend paediatric clinics. People who have wisdom teeth, not supernumerary, retractable canines. People who don't drink human blood on a daily basis. That was all she wanted.

"Damon?" How was he supposed to think with her saying his name like that?

If I do this, I'm lost.

If I look at her, I'm lost.

If I touch her, I'm lost.

He pushed himself in. Just a little. Just the tip.

If she wasn't so soft in his hands, he'd have been able to stop. He'd have been able to show some kind of restraint.

He squeezed one of her breasts, as gently as he could and still call it a squeeze. He rolled the hard nipple in his fingers and squeezed. Pushed his cock in a millimetre and squeezed. Push and squeeze.

He grabbed one of her hands in his and guided her up to feel her opening and the hard length of his shaft. "This is me…Okay? This is me…" He ran her hand up and down his cock and tried not to shiver at the sensation. Tried to hold himself back from slamming into her and breaking her ten ways till Sunday. "And this is you…" He ran her fingertips over her spread folds and their connection. "I need to be inside you, Bonnie."

Leave out the part we're you pledge your undying love. Try and leave that out, if you can. It only gets you laughed at and spat on. You're still covered in Katherine's spit, and Katherine's shit. Don't let this one shit on you, too. Keep your head on straight and keep the upper hand in this. Do NOT beg. Do NOT whine. And for the love of God, Damon, do NOT cry! Be the man. Be the pimp you're always pretending to be. Be stone cold and just fuck the bitch–

"Damon," shewhimpered.

He froze. Her fist was still clenching him and that made it worse. Made his hard on just that much harder to fit, harder to control. He slid a hand over one of her thighs and pulled it up and back around hiswaist. This wasn't going to be one of his all-star best, but he needed it to be hers. Her best, first-time ever. As if that makes sense. He lowered himself, closing the angle between their bodies a little, and rolled his hip in a little further.

"Do it, Damon. I want you. Damon, I want you–"

His teeth plunged into the skin over her jugular. He wasn't going to drink, he just needed the anchor. In one quick motion gripping her hip and her thigh, he pushed the length of him up inside her impossibly tight warmth. "Bonnie…" he moaned into her neck. She'd be the death of him. Katherine had left him crippled, Elena had left him defeated and this one… this new one would leave him dead. Her little fist was still around the bit of him that couldn't fit in, her fingernails scraping accidentally and wickedly against his balls. He put a hand over hers, entwined their fingers and squeezed. The fleeting pain brought a flicker of blood back to his brain. Gave him some focus. Somehow impossibly she found a way to angle her neck back and kiss him.

He pulled his hips back and pushed in and up again, hard. He pulled back a little further, and thrust in a little harder. If he was human, he'd sprain something, for sure, in this the awkwardest of all positions ever – paralyzed farmgirl? He'd come up with a name after. If he was human, it wouldn't mean so much to him. This way, he could feel the very beginnings of her climax as it rose in her. He could feel every infinitesimal vibration of her body. Feel every fucking kelvin of her heat as she tightened around him. He could hear the sweat on her. He could taste it. Every salt in it, every molecule, every drop of magic.

Then her ever-questing fingers reached back again, grabbing his balls, tickling his anus.

The traffic… He shifted his focus to the cars. He'd never been a two-minute man. He'd laughed at two-minute men. Ridiculed them. Accused them of being closet homosexuals, so he'd be damned if some wayside virgin did him in in one minute fifty three seconds. Hyundai, Hyundai, Civic, Kia, Honda, Chevrolet… "Bon–" Red car, blue car, green car, blue–

"Damon!" her voice, like the scream of a dove a thousand miles away.

A kettle was whistling and he found himself in the kitchen burning his hands on the hot metal.

"Damon!" Elijah slapped him on the cheek..

His eyes fluttered, taking in the absence of Bonnie on his cock and the man in front of him.

A dream?

Elijah turned the stove off, then slapped him again. "Pull it together.".

7.22, the kitchen version of the Felix Cat clock read.

What?

He was back in his clothes again. There was no blood filled bathtub. No Bonnie. No…

"Are you listening to me, Damon? I said go wake up Bonnie."

Not a dream… He could still taste her on his tongue and lips… Blood and magic.

"You mean Mags. Bonnie's gone…" he said, too softly even for the Original to hear. "She just said goodbye."

AN: Not sure if this counts as a lemon or what? Not really smutty… I don't know, it was weird for me to write. But it's Damon and Bonnie having a fantasy connection more or less. Starts in the chapter before when he thinks about her, and ends with him back with Elijah again. A lot of telepathy and thoughts going on, but I kinda wanted just to show a real connection between the two of them at least on a deeper level If even on the surface they still have that bickery "I hate you so much' vibe. And basically, Mags is in full control of Bonnie from now on…