Kai woke up in a jerk and spent a few unpleasant, disoriented seconds trying to recollect where, when and why he was. He felt sick and badly needed to have a trip to the bathroom. It was dark in the parlor, the fire in the hearth was reduced to a few feeble yellow tongues slithering over red gleaming embers. As he tried to sit up, Kai discovered a plaid draped over him. A small, tentative smile of appreciation snuck onto his lips and unwittingly widened as he noticed Bonnie dozing on the opposite couch, under a twin plaid. There was an open book lying cover-up on her middle. The nature-call urge spurred him to finally get up. He swayed as he did, his knees trembling with weakness and threatening to unbuckle. He bent, holding on to the couch's arm, feeling more nauseous now, until his head stopped swimming so badly and allowed him to slowly straighten up. He stood like that for a bit, to make sure he wouldn't crumble, then made a few unsteady steps, getting better at it with each. God, he couldn't remember feeling that weak ever since having chickenpox at ten.

He gingerly took the book off Bonnie's stomach, freezing as she stirred in her sleep, and put it on the table, same way open and cover-up as it rested on her, then was on his way to the bathroom. Once he was done with the business, Kai threw a glimpse in the mirror and barely recognized his pale face. He suddenly got scared for their mission freedom at the midday. How could he possibly give her enough if he was barely alive? It was so stupid to let her have her way. And tomorrow, when she realized it herself, it would be too late to rearrange it, and they would be stuck in this hole for another d—

"Fuck," he gritted, bringing down a fist on the edge of the basin. He didn't put much force into it, and yet it took more than his body could afford to flush down the drain yet. On the bright side, the grim thoughts subsided, and he could attend to more urgent matters, like changing out of the Freddy Krueger's victim's outfit. The crust of dried blood on his tee-shirt was scratching his skin. It was still quiet in the parlor, and he dragged himself upstairs where he showered and changed. Upon zipping a new pair of jeans on, Kai was so exhausted the bed seemed like a mirage in a desert, too close and yet too far away. The thirst, however, had his mouth parched and resembling a desert on its own, so he went back towards the parlor, tempted to sit down on the stairs after overcoming every five of them.

That must be how our grandma used to feel, he mused, stepping off the staircase and heading for the kitchen. He took a glass from the shelf, turned on the tap and stood filling it when new details of how crappy he felt came into the light of his awareness. His neck hurt – but that could be the discomfort of the sleep; his ribs and back and legs hurt the way they do when in fever – but he felt no fever present, and having just the symptoms without the cause was odd. The light nausea Kai wrote off to the hunger and thirst. He turned off the water and gulped down two thirds of the glass eagerly, gasped for breath and waited. It did its part – the thirst was gone – and it indeed took some edge off, but the rest remained. He started bringing the glass back to his lips when suddenly his arm felt limp, as if all the muscles in it turned to jelly. Two invisible hands pressed on his head from each side, squeezing, his ears rang so loudly he might have groaned – he didn't hear. There was a faint sound of breaking glass, and as the room swayed around him, he remembered he wasn't holding the glass anymore. I dropped it, he thought with a distracted wonder, and then his mind let go.

Bonnie woke up sometime in the middle of the night, her mind foggy as she pushed off the couch she'd fallen asleep on and headed upstairs to shower. Ancient wooden floorboards creaked with her every step, ominously filling the silent night, a chilling breeze sending a rush of apprehension racing up her spine. She stopped walking and glanced over her shoulder, briefly inspecting the four in lined doors in anticipation of company. She listened for sound, waiting for someone to step forth and then spared another look in the opposite direction, to the end of the hall, momentarily riveted by the lone lace curtain dancing in the moonlight that spilled in through the open window. Bonnie shook off the increasing terror, chiding herself for stupidity, and walked into her bedroom, kicking the door closed to pacify her cumulative uneasiness.

She took her time in the shower, washing away the day's stresses, and then changed into a fresh set of candy stripped pajama bottoms and 'I love ken' white tee-shirt.

"Knock-knock, Bonnie! I'm home!"

She smiled to herself, securing a towel on her wet hair, and hurried out into the hall. It was still dark. She stopped, once again overcome with fear. "I wasn't expecting you back," she remarked, unable to keep the tremble from her voice.

No answer.

"Dad?!" Bonnie yelled, praying he'd answer, her feet moving at their own accord as she headed for the rift of panels that descended into the living room. God, it was so dark. She didn't like it down there. "Dad," she called out a little more tentatively.

"Down here, baby. In the kitchen! I have something I want to show you!"

She took a hold of the banister for support and bare-footedly made her way down, her eyes anxiously scanning every shadowy corner of the acquainted living room. "I hope it isn't any more food," she said, trying to remain cheery and buoyant. "I'm stuffed." She raced to the kitchen and theatrically swung her way in with the use of the archway, a wide smile on her lips as she did. She frowned when she saw the lack of brown carrier bags on the counter, no takeaway boxes, and more importantly – no Daddy Bennett. "I am a little too old for hide-and-seek, Dad," she remarked with a candid laugh, suddenly aware of the open backdoor.

Bonnie was drawn to it, incapable of turning away as she stepped through and into a familiar crowd, their eyes trained ahead, fixed upon the stage where her father gave a heartwarming speech she'd heard a thousand times over in her head. It was the one and only time she'd ever truly felt loved by him and that maybe—in spite of her insecurities and feelings of abandonment—he actually missed her. She smiled, chuckling softly as she always did in appreciation of his mention of her and felt her blood turn cold as Stefan stepped on stage. For a moment, Bonnie was muddled, lost in what was happening, and started with a horrid realization only as she saw the blade slide against her father's throat. Blood gushing forth to shower the stage and to stain his dress shirt, a shrill knee-weakening scream spilled from her lips.

Bonnie ran toward his fallen body, unable to speak, babbling incoherently as she attempted to stave the bleeding and tried to reestablish life in his eyes. "Nononononono," she murmured over and over, her bloodied hands trembling.

"Unfortunate about the old man," Silas deliberated without sympathy, wiping the blade clean upon her father's pants leg. "But being Mayor often comes with a deadly price."

An inhuman snarl sounded from her lips as Bonnie lunged at the witch, knocking him onto his back, the knife skittering from his grip, her hands wrapped around his throat. She didn't know where she got the strength to repeatedly bash his head against the floor, a hand raised to the air just long enough to have the knife appear in her ready palm and to drive it into his skull. All at once the fighting stopped. She breathed hard, the hate-filled fog clearing, leaving her harrowed and numb as she pushed off the Silas's motionless corpse. She barely spared him or her father a thought, the knife slipping from her aching hand as she staggered toward the house.

She was missing something, something important.

"Naughty girl," a voice said sounding a touch angry and amused, something she recognized to be the ascendant in his hand. "You weren't looking to leave without me, were you?"

Bonnie reacted without hesitation, a hand extended before her like a lethal battle axe, various hospital carts attacking Kai from every angle to buy her time to escape. And then she was running, charging along an unending road, the world shifting in and around her like a dark cocoon that would swallow her whole if she stopped.

Bonnie shot awake, nearly toppling from the couch, disorientated and jumbled, startled to find herself in the Salvatore boarding house. She blinked like a rabid animal, darting a look around, breathing a sigh of genuine relief when she realized she was alone, having half-expected Silas or Kai to jump out at her. It was only as she lay back down and started to calm down that she remembered she wasn't alone and that one of her inner terrors was, in fact, still loitering around. That he'd come back for her, but this time—not in the awful manner her nightmare depicted. Kai was harmless for now—good even. She lifted her head once more, peering across at the couch where she expected him to be still asleep and froze when she saw it empty.

Where the hell was he?

Bonnie sat up, disentangling her legs from the blanket, and flittered a look at the book set on the table beside her. He did that or had she? She couldn't remember and for now she didn't care. "Kai?!" she called, hating herself for the tremor that found its way into her voice, an onset of the nightmare she was still shaking off. She checked the nearest bathroom first, thinking maybe he needed to relieve himself—he was human, after all—and then checked the kitchen, rushing inside when she saw him unconscious on the floor. She knelt beside him, wincing as she did, having seen the glass too late. She ignored the pain radiating through her foot, bringing a hand to his pale face, slapping at his cheek in attempt to wake him up. When he didn't stir, Bonnie checked his pulse and simultaneously pressed an ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat.

What if he'd killed himself again? What if he'd gotten fed up?

She forced herself to her feet, mindful of the shattered glass around them this time, picking another glass off the drying rack to fill it. She knelt beside him a second time, dipping her fingers into the water, sprinkling it upon his pale face in attempt to rouse him.

A small gust of breeze caressed Kai's face and sent a wave of gooseflesh across his spine and arms. There was definitely something new about how Jo looked at him – even in the twilight of the eclipse, he could see it in her eyes. An uncharacteristic bravery that seemed to have left her completely after yesterday's events. And the rest of the coven surrounding them like silent ghosts observing an act of doom playing out – he could sense the same from them. It tasted like…

A trap.

Their father's voice broke the dead silence, unleashing the worst of headaches Kai had never known was possible at all. With a strangled scream, he fell on his knees and never felt the pang of collision in them, consumed by the agony inside his skull he was clutching. The forest around became a mad swirl of treetops over him, and Kai became vaguely aware of how cold the ground beneath his back was. Jo's face was the last glimpse he ever got before the blinding explosion of light spirited them all away from him, and it was the little smile she was wearing that had carved itself into the core of his memory and haunted him into unconsciousness and back.

His head still hurt a bit just beneath his forehead and around the temples, adding to the subtle nausea. He heard himself groan weakly as he stirred and opened his eyes half-mast. Her face was blurred out.

"Jo…" he managed in a hoarse whisper and coughed. His throat was completely dry, he felt dizzy. And then he remembered. It wasn't Jo. It was Bonnie, and they were in their little hell. Still. Kai groaned again, this time in weak frustration. "There's really something wrong with me, Bon."

Bonnie stared down at him, her heart in a trepidation. What was going on? Who was Jo? Was it the lack of blood? What if the meat was off? Was that even possible? Her mind raced with possibilities. What was she to do now?

It was damn hard to keep his eyes open, so Kai let them close again as he tried to get his thoughts together. They were slow and heavy, like spilled molasses. His whole head was heavy it felt as though the floor would crack under its weight.

"It's okay, I'm going to take care of you," she crooned in the sweetest tone she could muster, resigning herself to her inescapable fate and the obvious deed that needed doing. If Kai was truly dying, if he'd reached a point of no return and she'd botched up the healing process in some way, then she couldn't let him suffer the agony of waiting for the unavoidable. It seemed too cruel.

Kai had never heard a tone that sweet coming from her, not to Damon, and of course not to him. He heard her feet trot away – probably back to the parlor – and he wondered what she was going to do. Hopefully, not offer him another steak – he didn't feel like eating anything at all. He needed to drink. He craved for water but had no strength to pick himself up from the floor just yet.

Bonnie removed the knife from beneath the couch cushion she'd shoved it earlier to hide from him. There was little to no hesitation in her decision now, a slight tremor the only indication of nerves.

Bonnie's returning footfalls were as loud as a giant's would be. They thudded in Kai's brain, making it shake like jelly. With his eyes still closed, Kai felt her kneel beside him and hover. She smelled nice, like some exotic flower. Some fancy shower gel. Her face was out of focus when he glanced at her, but he still saw worry and distress. A part of him felt guilty for adding to her plate of suffering that had already been too full, but there was another part that was faintly pleased that she was worried. Even if it was a trick of his imagination.

"Close your eyes, Kai," she said, seeing his eyelids droop and flutter open with disorientation as he tried to focus on her.

When she killed Kai for the first time, it wasn't out of pleasure or some sense of spitefulness, but a mere means of doing what she thought was right. He was a self-proclaimed psycho that reveled in massacring his family and raved about his desire to finish the job. In what world would she ever think to release someone like that into the world again? She couldn't claim to be one hundred percent sure of who this person was—this groaning figure beneath her—but a part of her could see the change he talked about last night. Or maybe she just wanted to see it? Maybe she was that desperate for another person in this desolate prisoner that she was blinded and willing to accept anyone? Either way, the decision wasn't easy this time.

Her fingers stroke through his hair soothingly, and instead of actually soothing, it alarmed him. As if there was the thinnest thread of sense of danger within him and she accidentally brushed against it. The thread vibrated, sending a high-pitched tone through his nerves.

Bonnie's eyes locked on his own, mesmerized by the sheer look of fear on his face. As sick as he was, he wasn't able to mask it as he usually did.

Kai stared at her, searching her face. She had almost the same look as she did hours earlier in the parlor when he suggested to reenact his close-to-death performance. Kai cleared his throat and coughed. "Wh—… What are you… doing?" Words felt heavy, too.

And then, an invisible vice closed on Kai's head again, squishing viciously. He clutched at his temples as if to hold the brain in, his back arched as he let out a strangled cry. For a second, he was cold, as though someone threw him in a pile of snow, and next moment a flash of heat swept through his body setting the nerves and sinews ablaze.

Bonnie sat back to give him breathing room, knife in hand, feeling at a complete and total loss of what to do, tears of frustration springing to her eyes.

Do I go for it? Do I end it? Do I make that final sweep and hope for the best?

Bonnie's eyes, drawn by an unanticipated movement in her peripheral vision, unintentionally found their way around the kitchen, dazed and alarmed by the lively flash and change of scenery. "What the fuck," she whispered, her heart jumping into her throat, immediately making a grab for his thigh to anchor them together in case they disappeared or fell through a crack. There was something really, really wrong. Was his being here ripping the prison world's fabric apart?

Kai emitted another cry – weaker than the first one – thinking he was going to pass out again, and then it let go, as suddenly as it gripped him. His hands fell away from his head, and he lay there panting, unable to move. His heart thrashing against his ribs and his pulse raping at his temples. His ears were ringing so much it sounded like someone was shrieking non-stop right into each of them, trying to make his head explode. The next groan he let out he didn't even register. "God… what the… hell is it…"

"I don't know," she answered, her free hand remaining firm in its place upon his thigh, somewhat afraid of removing it. What if the next time that happened he disappeared without her?

Kai could hardly make out her words through the blood flushing and his pulse thudding in his ears as though someone was smashing a hammer against his ribcage from the inside in hopes of breaking out. He thought he felt her hand on his leg, gripping, but he wasn't sure – too many aches traveled through his body to register such thing.

"It's like we're shifting between realities or… this place is breaking apart. I can't tell." She glanced down at him, trying to measure whether or not he looked better or if now that he'd had an attack of sorts he was capable of functioning again.

Kai peered up at her, having a hard time mulling over what she was saying. What realities…

"Whatever it is… I don't suppose we have much time to get out of here. How are you feeling?" She knew that question to be the worst but was in desperate need of an answer. "Are you okay? Whatever is going on seems to be taking it a whole lot out on you."

Kai emitted a chuckle and coughed. "I'm not okay, Bonnie. I… don't know what it is. I feel… wrung out." Remembering her earlier remark, he frowned and tried to keep his eyes from closing as he set them on her. "What was it… about realities?"

"I… I couldn't tell—" Firstly, the flashes were far too quick and what Bonnie managed to make out seemed like a predominant figment of her imagination. "But you either teleported or shifted us from this kitchen to another, like… similar place, I guess, but years apart—" she explained, making no sense whatsoever—at least to herself—not even sure it was a kitchen to begin with or a basement. Maybe it was a parlor? It looked far too bleak and compact, the partial reminisce of candlelight coming to her for a second, doing nothing to clarify things for her or make her give him a rational answer. "We're going to have to figure this out. But you're of no use to yourself or me in this state and certainly not to the reality of this place." Bonnie didn't think they had much time to play around with a choice and the chance healing anymore, and who knew what would happen if he had another seizure. He seemed to be on the verge of passing out and was straining to keep his eyes open.

Kai stared at her, searching her face as it came in and out of focus with the frantic beats of his heart, and sensing the realization dawning in the back of his foggy mind. He watched her lean over her and put a knife over his chest, the tip almost touching it. The blade still had his blood on it; her hand was trembling. He felt the physical impulse twitch somewhere deep within him to recoil from it, the most natural impulse of the body to protect itself, however screwed it was to begin with. But he wasn't sure he would even if he had stamina for it. He looked back to Bonnie and the distress he read on her face was both endearing and unsettling.

"I'll try to make it as quick as possible. Just… just close your eyes," Bonnie said, needing him to do it not only for himself, but for her, too. She knew what it was like seeing someone kill you, to have that vision and the look upon the killer's face forever correlated in your head.

Her voice was trembling same as her hand, Kai noted. She was actually about to cry, and it somehow mesmerized him. What she was asking came belated to his mind, and he realized it was harder to comply than he would think. The normal instinct of people to hide from danger and pull the covers over their heads not to see the closet monster was alien to him. Kai always had to see.

He swallowed with effort, something clicking in his dry throat, and glanced at her hand again. It shook more now, and he had an understanding her resolve might be starting to seep away.

Bonnie scrutinized Kai, patiently anticipating his nod of approval, clandestinely wishing he'd rebuke the idea and give her an inkling of faith in his recovery.

A phantom throe pierced Kai's chest under the blade as if to prepare for the pain to come. "Okay," he breathed, and looked at her for the last time, trying a weak, encouraging smile. Then he made himself obey.

Bonnie tightened my sweaty grip on the handle of the knife, applying a bit of pressure, her eyes remaining focused on the nominated spot on his chest as if it were painted with a bull's eye. She inhaled, wondering how hard she was going to have to push to force it through the bone and if it would be as straightforward as she imagined. Is murder ever? The funny—or morbid, depending on how you looked at it—thing was she spent nights imagining what she would do to him once she was out of this stinking prison world—and hoping she wouldn't have to see him again—visiting many brutal deaths upon him in her dreams. Unmentionable things that were far less merciful than her former axe toss. And yet, even as she recalled to memory his cold, knowing smirk as that knife hovered in front of her face before he drove it into her middle, Bonnie still couldn't find the strength to kill him, even if—and hopefully—it was only temporarily.

It was the longest uneasy moment in Kai's life, it seemed. With only his uneven, frantic pulse to count passing time, he lost himself in it soon enough. He couldn't remember feeling that vulnerable in a very long time. The tip of the blade pricked his chest, making him internally strain – and then nothing happened, still. It was like some kind of a torture, and he had to force his eyes to remain shut. His breath was catching in his throat, and his heart was all but trying to bust through his chest to that knife. For a second, he felt the urge to yell at her to just do it. Through that sharp tip, he felt her hand shake more intensely.

She tried once more, feeling the last of her strength seep out of her arms, sending an array of frightful tingles through her – none of which was pleasant. "I can't do it," she stated as if she'd failed at a standard task she should be able to do with her hands tied behind her back. "I won't." She tossed the knife aside, it clanged against the floor.

Kai started a little and snapped his eyes open to peer at her as her fingers rubbed at the spot she was aiming at earlier as if to soothe. She straightened up over him, still kneeled, and sat back with a glass of water. She pulled his head on her lap and helped him drink.

The water almost went the wrong way – his throat was so dry he almost chocked on it, drawing hungry gulps. Kai thanked her in a still a bit hoarse voice and studied her lost expression, unable to bite back a chuckle. "Damn, I've never thought you're so good at torture."

"Me neither," Bonnie interjected, sounding rather apologetic about dragging it out like that, all too aware now that the suspense took its toll on him, too.

A small laugh escaped him, and elicited a bout of painful coughs. "I do feel too crappy to explain it with… blood loss alone," Kai shared. "So maybe you're right and—"

It came as abruptly as the first two times, wracking through his brain and squishing it. He let out a strangled grunt, his body going rigid. He tasted blood in his mouth, and then the reality just started to drift away, taking pain and senses with it.

"No," Bonnie murmured, registering the transient rush of pain that etched into his features, the glass set aside without bothering to be gentle about it. He grunted, his body stiffening, forcing her to crawl out from beneath him and to take an instinctive hold of his head. She rolled him over onto his side, fearful of what to expect and scared he'd lapse into a fit and choke on his own tongue. Who knew how bad this would get? Or the predictability of whatever was wracking through him? All she knew was the fleeting signs. Her heart leapt into her throat as he stilled, his body going limb. Bonnie rolled him over onto his back again, a small trickle of blood gathered in the corner of his mouth. Had he bitten his tongue? She refrained from opening his mouth to check and instead pressed two fingers to his pulse. She closed her eyes, patiently waiting, smiling when she felt it—a slow thrumming against her fingertips. Kai was still alive, barely holding on but alive. She needed to get him to the hospital.

She raised her head, moving to a quick standing to go in search of a sheet with which to drag him to the garage, and felt the air drain from her lungs. "Oh God," she breathed out with noticeable fear, scarcely recognizing anything but the distinguished pots stacked around her for easy use.

Where the hell are we?

"Kai," Bonnie began, crouching to grab a hold of his shoulders hopeful he'd wake up and snap them back to their former home-base. "Kai, wake up!"