Like A Man Possessed

By: Tracy Cook

Disclaimer: I own nothing. These characters belong to the creators of Vampire Diaries.

Couple: Bonnie/Damon

Rating: M

Warning : This fic will have serial killer Damon in it. And lots of murder and violence and smut!

Author's Note : Thank you all so much for the support! I really am loving writing this! Hope y'all like this chapter!

Chapter Two

Father Please Forgive Me

'Father Please Forgive Me, For I Know Not What I Do.'

As she reached out and gripped the doorknob to her apartment complex, her entire body went stiff and her eyes closed. She was no longer looking through her own eyes. She was looking through his eyes. Bonnie watched his hands as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Before walking inside, she noticed the number beside the door.

Four.

She could feel the weight of overwhelming emotions on his shoulders. She could hear his thoughts waging a war inside of his head. Each time that she had the visions of him they got more intense. She saw more of him. More of his thought process.

Staring through his eyes she watched as he stumbled into the apartment and pulled his leather jacket off. Bonnie could see cuts along his forearms, they were deep and bleeding. He didn't walk to the bathroom to clean the cuts and wrap them up. He didn't even seem to notice that he was cut. He was lost in his mind. He thought that he was dreaming. He couldn't believe that he had killed someone. He couldn't remember doing it.

He moved across the apartment and opened the door to his bedroom.

The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he took a few steps toward his bed. He lifted up the bottle of sleeping pills on the table beside his bed, and he took two of them, before falling face first onto the mattress.

His eyes were open.

He was staring across the room at boxes, and a girl's clothes that were thrown around the room. He had obviously thrown around her clothes in a fit of rage. They belonged to his ex-girlfriend. The one that had left him because she thought he was going crazy and she couldn't handle him any longer. That had been what she said. "I can't handle you any longer."

Bonnie's heart broke for him when she said that.

Slowly his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into a drug induced sleep.

She took in a sharp breath and her green eyes snapped open as the vision came to an end. He was sleeping his troubles away and she knew that she needed to find him, now more than ever. The police were going to easily piece together the evidence and he needed someone who understood what he was going through. He needed someone who sympathized with him and knew that it wasn't his fault. Whatever this was inside of him, wasn't him.

'Four. Four. Four. Four.' Bonnie repeated the number over and over in her head as she hastily opened the door to her apartment and headed inside. She knew what the apartment complex looked like from past visions and now she knew what number his room was.

All she needed to do was find out which building he was staying in.

Once inside, she dropped her purse on the counter and she headed toward her bedroom. She sat down on her bed and pulled out her laptop. She would have to look through every apartment complex in New York City until she found the one that looked like his. She knew that it would take hours, possibly days, but she had to do it. She needed to get to him before the police did.

'I just wish that I knew his name...' Bonnie thought as she typed away eagerly.

'Death Might Not Be The Answer, It Can't Be All That Great,

But Me, I'm Not Into Living, With Life I Can't Relate.'

"Take a look at this." Elijah stated calmly when he heard Rebekah's heals clacking loudly against the tiles of the bathroom floor. He didn't need to look up to know it was her. His dark eyes were filled with perplexity as he looked over a trail of blood that led from the stall to the victim's body. The body hadn't been moved from where he had originally dropped, so he knew that the blood didn't belong to the victim.

"What is that?" The blonde asked curiously as she stepped over the dead body. She didn't even flinch at the sight of death any longer. When she had first joined the force she had sympathized with people, now they were just another dead body.

It was terrible. She knew it was. But to survive, that was what she had to do.

"It appears to be a trail of blood leading from this stall to the victim." He said. "It is my belief that it belongs to our suspect."

Rebekah scrunched up her face in confusion. "Do you think that it happened in the struggle?"

"No." Elijah stood to his feet and wiped his hands along his uniform. She didn't know how he did it, but he made the police uniform look elegant. Blue eyes watched him closely as he walked toward the victim. "I think that the blood was drawn prior to the murder."

"Why would he do that?" She didn't understand. He was practically leaving a trail of evidence behind for them to follow. He hadn't attempted to hide the body, he had left behind blood, and he had possibly paid for his check. This was definitely an odd case.

"I have no clue." He admitted.

It was strange.

Elijah knelt down beside the body and he pointed to his face. There was blood smeared along his lips and staining his teeth. He had a feeling that despite the stab wounds and undoubted internal bleeding, that blood wasn't his either. At least not all of it was. "I think that he was bleeding from the hands or wrists, there is a mark of blood on the victim's face that looks an awful lot like a hand print."

"Now he's leaving behind fingerprints?" Rebekah asked. "Does he want to get caught?"

"I don't know."

"This doesn't seem to be premeditated."

"In ways it doesn't." Elijah noted, staring up at his partner. "And in ways it does."

Rebekah knelt down beside him and she looked over the body. She wondered what he meant. "In what ways?"

"Look closely at the stab wounds."

She scanned the victim's chest and she noticed that there were four stab wounds. She didn't understand how that showed that it was premeditated though, in her opinion it showed the exact opposite. He wasn't prepared to kill the man and so he had to stab him multiple times to kill him. "He stabbed him four times."

"Yes." Elijah nodded. "But, the peculiar part is where he stabbed him. Before I quit medical school, I learnt quite a bit about anatomy and this man knew what he was doing. He stabbed our victim with purpose. He cut off all of the arteries that connected to the heart, limiting the blood source and bringing him to a quick and painful death."

"Is it possible it was merely a coincidence?" The blonde Brit asked.

"It is exceedingly unlikely." He informed. "Even knowing where the arteries are, I do not think I would be fully capable of this. This murder was planned. And he is possibly medically trained."

"Did you find the murder weapon?"

"No."

'Sick Of Trying - What's The Point?

Sick Of Talking - No One Listens.'

'Darkness surrounded him.

He couldn't see anything. He couldn't see his own hands as he lifted them in front of his face.

In the distance he could make out the silhouette of a man walking toward him. He couldn't see his face though. He couldn't tell who he was.

"Who are you?" Damon called out into the darkness. "What is this place?"

The man didn't respond. He just kept walking slowly toward him.

As he got closer, Damon started to make out small details in his body and face and his heart started to race in his chest. He recognized him now. He tried to back away, but he couldn't move. The man kept getting closer and closer. Until he was only inches away from him.

He swallowed hard as he stared over his face. He had once been young and filled with life and now his face was sickly white and clammy. His eyes were clear blue. There was blood smeared across his face and he was bleeding through his shirt.

"Why?" The man whispered sadly. "Why?"

The man moved even closer to him. His nose touching Damon's and his eyes staring directly into his. He could feel his breath against his face. It all felt so real. "Why?" He whispered one last time.'

His eyes snapped open and he took in a sharp breath as he quickly sat up. His heart was racing, and he was breathing heavily as he stared across the room at his dresser. 'I'm at home. It was all just a dream...' He thought, letting out a breath of relief. This time his dream had felt so real. He had felt the cold wind against his skin as he walked the streets of New York City. He had tasted the coffee as it filled his mouth. He had felt the knife cut into his skin. He had watched the man struggle as he stabbed him.

Damon ran his hands through his hair and dug his fingers into his scalp. His head was pounding painfully. The headaches were constant lately. He was starting to hate being alive.

His eyes landed on his wrists and his heart jumped into his throat. He pulled his hands away from his head and he looked down at his arms. There were deep cuts covering his skin. Some of them had scabbed over and others were so deep that they were still open and bleeding. They weren't straight lines. They looked like they made symbols, but he didn't recognize the symbols. They didn't look like any language he had ever seen.

"What the hell?" He asked as he twisted around to look at his sheets.

They were covered in his blood.

He didn't understand. Did he cut himself in his sleep or had it all really happened? Had he killed someone last night?

His heart was pounding loudly in his ears. He felt like it would break through his rib cage and kill him any minute, it was beating so fast. His mind was scrambled with a mix of thoughts. 'What the hell happened last night!? I don't remember!'

Damon stood to his feet and nearly fell to the ground. His anxiety was making him lightheaded. He felt like he was intoxicated. "A glass of Bourbon sounds great right about now, actually." He concluded. Alcohol wasn't the best solution, but most of the time it was his. It helped get his mind off of the nightmares.

His arms were burning where he had cut into them and he knew that he needed to clean them, but he didn't care. He just wanted to drink his pain away and forget it ever happened. Walking across his apartment he headed into the kitchen area and he opened his liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of his favorite Bourbon. Reaching up, he opened another cabinet and he pulled out a glass.

His lips twisted up into a smirk as he filled the glass to the top.

"This should help." Damon concluded. Lifting the glass to his lips he downed it in one gulp. Then he started to pour another glass.

Before he could down the second glass of alcohol he heard a knock at the door. He could feel the alcohol in his system already and it allowed him to be calm despite the fear that was rushing through him. He was terrified that he had actually killed someone last night. He was terrified that the cops were coming to arrest him.

Damon waltzed across the room toward the door, a playful smile on his lips as he called out, "Who is it!?"

There was no response.

He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, staring through the peephole. On the other side of the door was the beautiful young woman from the previous night. The woman that he had thought was a part of his dream. 'Wait. She's real? The cuts are real? Seriously what the hell is going on!?'

"Sorry, nobodies home." He spoke loudly through the door.

"If nobodies home then how are you talking to me?" She called back sarcastically.

Damon smirked deviously when he heard her response. It was evident that she had no intention of leaving until he opened the door. She was standing with her arms crossed over her chest and a serious look on her face. 'Where is the girl that was smiling last night?' He wondered.

He pulled the door open, just a crack, and looked through it at her. Blue connected with green and she smiled at him.

"I've kinda got a lot on my plate right now. What do ya want?" He asked.

"I need to talk to you about what happened last night." She spoke quickly. Any minute now the cops could show up and arrest him and she needed to tell him what was going on and convince him to hide.

"You came all the way over here to talk to me about how I ran into you while I was looking for a taxi?" Damon teased, his smirk widening. Inside he was a mess. He was wondering if she somehow knew about what he had done at the cafe. If she knew that he was a killer. He didn't even know if he was a killer. "I already said sorry. What more do you want?" He waggled his brow at her.

The girl laughed a little and rolled her eyes. She couldn't comprehend how he was being so childish and calm when he had literally just killed someone. She wanted to help him, but he needed to take things seriously. "This isn't about that. This is about what happened at the diner."

"In that case." He paused and thought about it. "I plead the fifth." He closed the door in her face and turned quickly on his heels.

"I can help you!"

Damon halted his movements when he heard that. He stood still and listened closely. "How?"

"Let me in and I can explain!"

Damon groaned out in annoyance and he quickly looked around the apartment for his leather jacket, pulling it on to hide the cuts. He pulled the covers over his bloody sheets to hide them as well. He didn't know if he could trust her. She could be an undercover police officer for all he knew. Or she could be a reporter and tell the police. He wanted to trust her. Because, he needed someone he could trust with what happened.

He couldn't tell his brother. Stefan had always been the "good" brother, so to speak. He went to college, he got perfect grades, he never drank. He was always trying to prove himself to their parents. He had been young when they were murdered and he wanted to do the best he could to be a good person and make them proud.

Stefan wouldn't understand.

He would tell him he was crazy. He would tell him that he was a terrible person. He would try and get him to confess to what he had done.

Once all of the evidence was covered up, he opened the door to his apartment and smiled at the woman standing on the other side. "Come on in." He held the door open for her. Once she was inside, he closed the door and locked it behind her. His paranoia was getting the best of him lately and he didn't want anyone else coming in. He could see the worry in her eyes and it upset him knowing that she was scared of him.

Bonnie regretted her fear the minute that she saw his smile fall. She knew that he was a good man and he wasn't going to kill her, she just didn't trust whatever was inside of him. He had no control over it.

Damon headed back into the kitchen, picking up his glass of bourbon. "So, how can you help me with my little predicament." He emphasized every syllable of the word 'predicament'.

"Are you drinking?" She asked, taking a few steps toward him.

"Yep." He popped the p playfully and his eyes widened.

"Do you really think that's the way to deal with this?"

"It might not be your way to deal with it, judgy." Damon smirked. "But it's mine."

Bonnie nodded her understanding. She knew that alcohol was his way of dealing with his problems. Many times she had visions of him after his girlfriend broke up with him, drinking his troubles away. She just thought that it would be best if he was sober right now. He needed to take what happened seriously and they needed to find a way to cover things up.

This was murder. It wasn't to be taken lightly. He would go away for life.

He walked past her. His arm brushing against hers as he walked toward the couch. He plopped down onto it, his drink still in hand. "Why don't you come sit down and tell me who you are and how you know about what happened last night?" Damon stared over at her. She looked like she was hesitating as she walked toward the couch and he reached out and patted the cushion inviting her to sit beside him.

Bonnie couldn't deny that there was something charming about him. Maybe it was his smile and his beautiful eyes? Maybe it was because she had been inside of his head and she knew who he was, probably better than he knew himself at this point.

She took a seat beside him and looked him in the eye. "My name is Bonnie."

"Hi Bonnie." He grinned. "I'm Damon. Pleasure to meet you. Though I wish that we could have met under different circumstances."

"Yeah. Me too." Bonnie admitted with a small smile. She really did wish that she could have found him before he had killed anyone. She had wanted to save him. Now, he would live his life in constant fear of being caught for what he had done, and fear that he might do it again and not even know it.

"So." Damon stretched with a raise of his brow. "Mind telling me how you know about what happened at the diner. Because, I REALLY don't remember seeing you in the men's restroom last night."

"You're gonna think this is crazy." Everyone that Bonnie told about her powers thought that she was nuts. When she told her best friend about it, he had pretty much turned the entire thing into a joke. Damon would undoubtedly do the same. He didn't seem like he was one to take anything seriously.

"I think we're both a little crazy." He sang.

She laughed. It was sort of true. "True." She smiled and he smiled back at her. "Okay. I don't know if you believe in witchcraft..."

"That would be a negative." Damon said.

"Well, then this is going to be a lot more difficult to explain." Bonnie chewed on her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. She was hoping that he would be a bit more open-minded. She didn't really know how to say the next few words and finally she decided to just spit them out. If he didn't believe it, she could easily prove it by telling him some of the things she had seen. 'Or he will think I'm a crazy stalker that has been watching his every move... There's always that chance.'

He furrowed his brow when he heard that. 'Is she going to tell me she knew what I did because she is a witch? Yeah, she's definitely as crazy as I am.'

"All my life my Grams told me that I was born into a line of witches. She told me she was a witch, and I thought that she was going senile." Bonnie admitted. Maybe if he knew how much she didn't believe it at first it would help him to believe her. "That was until the visions started."

"Visions?"

"Yeah. Visions of you." Damon looked surprised when she said that and she knew that he was going to think she was lying so she quickly continued talking before he could interrupt. "I would touch something and I would see you. Like last night, I touched the doorknob to my apartment and I saw you opening your door. That's how I found your room. I saw the number four on the outside through your eyes." She paused and scrunched up her face. "It's sort of creepy actually."

"So, that means when you took a shower you saw me taking a shower?" He asked in a suggestive and flirtatious tone.

Bonnie felt her skin ignite as a blush painted along her cheeks. Her heart was suddenly pounding loudly in her chest and she had to look away from him. She was embarrassed because it actually had happened once. And that had been one of the more pleasant visions she had. She had enjoyed what she saw. "Damon." She reprimanded harshly. "Can't you be serious?"

"You are talking about magic and witchcraft and I'm the one not being serious?"

She sighed. "You don't believe me."

"Nope." He popped the p again and shrugged his shoulders leaning back into the cushions of the couch. "I don't believe that you had a "vision" of me, and I don't believe that I killed anyone. I just want to drink my bourbon and relax." Damon reached over and picked up the remote to his television, clicking the power button to turn the television on. Sometimes he just liked to get lost in the drama of fictional characters' lives. It was easier than focusing on the drama in his.

'He still thinks it was a dream?' Bonnie thought to herself as she watched him closely.

Suddenly, she glanced over at the television when she heard. "Last night there was a man found murdered in the bathroom of a local cafe. Police won't release much information to us, but the man appears to have been stabbed four times in the bathroom of the establishment-"

The reporter's voice was cut off when Damon clicked the power button. His hands were shaking anxiously. He couldn't deny it any longer. Last night he hadn't been dreaming. He had killed a man. "This can't be happening! How could I have killed him!? I don't even remember it!" He could feel himself growing angry. He wasn't angry at Bonnie, he was angry at himself. At his body. How could he just blackout and kill someone? Was he going crazy like Elena had said? 'It's a good thing she got out when she had the chance. She was right about me.'

Bonnie reached over and she held onto his shaking hand tightly. Interlacing their fingers and giving it a small reassuring squeeze. She knew that he had no recollection of what he had done and she truly did want to help him.

"I believe that you don't remember, Damon. I saw you when it happened." She paused and looked down at their hands. "It wasn't you."

"You mean someone else did it?" He had hope in his voice.

"Not exactly." She shook her head. "It was strange. Your head snapped back and your eyes rolled up into your head and then you were someone else. You weren't you any longer. You started to carve these weird symbols into your wrists and then you killed him..." Bonnie whispered the last words because she knew that Damon didn't want to be reminded of what he had done. "That's why I was at the cafe last night. I wanted to stop you before it happened, but I was too late."

He could hear the sorrow and regret in her voice and he knew that she really did want to help him. He knew that he could trust her. She wasn't going to tell anyone what happened. But, he couldn't believe that she was a witch. Witches didn't exist. "How can you expect me to believe all of this?"

"I don't." Bonnie admitted. "Do you have cuts on your wrists, Damon? Is that why you are wearing that jacket?"

Damon didn't say anything. His jaw was clenched tightly and he was staring straight at the television. His grip on her hand was tightening, but she didn't mind. It wasn't hurting her.

"How else would I know about them? I wasn't in that stall with you. I couldn't have possibly seen you do it." She could see the wheels turning in his head and she knew that he was starting to believe her. Even if he wasn't ready to admit it. "You don't have to believe me. I don't expect you to believe me. But, you need to understand that I am here to help you. I don't want you to go to prison."

'Sick Of Myself - I Don't Want To Live.'

Author's Note :

Thank you all sooo much for your wonderful reviews! I am happy to see that a few people are interested in me continuing this fic! I would love to know what y'all thought of this chapter and what y'all want to see in the future! If you have any ideas I will most likely add them to the fic! Romantic ideas, smutty ideas, ideas about the police, ideas about anything! :)) I will make the ideas work! Anywho, thank you sooo much for the support and I hope that y'all love this chapter too!

What did y'all think about Rebekah and Elijah in this chapter? Do you like that they are the police? Do you think they will catch Damon? Who do you think Bonnie's best friend is? Who do you want it to be? What about Stefan? Excited to see him in the upcoming chapters? Did y'all like the Bamon interaction this chapter? Was it in character despite the AU? I hope so!

Thank you so much for reading this fic!

I love you all!

-Tracy Cook-