Disclaimer: I only own the computer I wrote this on.
Myths
Bonnie really meant to do it. She wanted to do. Elena expected her to do it, for Stefan. But when she closed her eyes and the energy flowed from her, she thought of Damon. She thought of the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into her neck. She thought of the compromises she had to make to be here, in this study, three sets of eyes on her. So Bonnie muttered a stream of nonsensical Latin phrases and took apart the watch, then put it back together.
The guilt was consuming the moment Elena hugged her. Talk shifted to the meeting with Isobel and Bonnie moved to sit by the fireplace. Soon she was alone. The fire flickered and grew in intensity. If Isobel used the watch against the tomb vampires, Stefan might get caught in the crossfire. Elena would never forgive her. That was the one hand. The other was buckling under the pressure made by a vampire who viewed her daughter as little more than a chess piece, and that she could not do.
Bonnie rubbed her face. Glass clinked. She turned to watch Damon recline in an armchair. He swirled a glass of brandy and sniffed it.
"1896. We have a cask in the family dungeon."
Bonnie faced the fire. "Is that where you keep the food? Chained up in the dungeon?"
"No, we keep it in these nifty plastic bags in a freezer."
Bonnie fell silent. Damon noticed she resorted to this muteness whenever something piqued her sense of piety. That in and of itself turned him quiet. His gaze strayed to the thick black brown hair fanning her shoulders. A Yeats poem came to mind, two actually, one about yellow hair, the other about a brown penny.
He drank down the Brandy. It cleared the nonsense to remind him to stick to his basic instinct—witches were notorious for holding grudges. Bonnie had a few and then some.
The firelight grew brighter. The room grew warmer. Her hair took on the glow of liquid gold. Damon decided to fill another glass with brandy. Bonnie glanced up as something nudged her shoulder.
"Don't tell your Dad," Damon said. Bonnie took the drink and tensed when he lowered himself to sit beside her. The light shone on the polished leather of his boots. The glass was blocky, heavy. The brandy was a dark brown and smelled like damp.
"I didn't have time to poison it, if that's why you're inspecting it."
Bonnie threw him a look. He was propped up on his arms, his head angled to one side, his eyes direct on her face.
She was suddenly aware that they were alone, that they sat before a warm fire, that her knee was inches from colliding with the fabric of his jeans.
The future forked out before her, quite clear. Peace, civility, possibly friendship. She twirled the brandy. Friendship with Damon. It was an oxymoron. Why couldn't she be one of those witches with prescient powers? Life would be infinitely less complicated.
"Do you trust me?" she asked.
"Not in the least," he answered. Bonnie grinned. She set the glass next to him and stood.
"Thanks," Bonnie said before exiting.
The flames died down. The room grew darker. He almost missed it while musing on her odd little exit—the erratic heartbeat. She lied about something. He was intrigued but not enough to investigate tonight.
Elena wandered into the study and sat next to Damon, examining his face before looking at the fire.
"Are you ready to meet Mommie Dearest?"
Elena lifted a shoulder. "Not really. She's alive and she couldn't care less about me. You know about that."
Damon cocked an eyebrow. "Ouch. And I thought we were friends."
He caught her grin and grinned himself. He felt her relax and was glad. Sitting with Elena was simple. Doing anything with Elena was simple. Maybe it had something to do with the doppelganger thing or maybe he genuinely…well.
"This is the most silent you've been. What's going on?"
"I'm thinking about you," he said. Elena rolled her eyes.
"Think about something else. Like promising me you will stick to the plan."
Damon placed his hand on his chest. "I promise not to kill your mother. Well," he smiled, "I promise not to kill kill your mother."
Elena nodded. "Why, thank you. I guess."
They settled into another silence. He glanced over to find her staring at him. "What?"
"I was thinking about Bonnie."
Damon leaned over the armchair. "You know, it's okay. I'm hot, you're hot, it's natural I'd be on your mind. No one will judge you for having the occasional fantasy."
"Damon," Elena said, "I'm being serious. What she did tonight was incredible. And she did it for you and Stefan."
"No, idiot, she did it for you. If you weren't around, your pretty boyfriend would be a pile of bone and ash."
"Whatever," Elena stood, "she did it. Maybe someone should be grateful."
"Are you talking about Stefan?" Damon called after her. He sat back in the chair and poured another glass. Grateful to a witch.
The strange grin she flashed him danced in the flames. What was that about? The upward bend of her lips was more off-putting than the threat of immolation. The world had gone crazy. Damon knocked back another glass and let the flickering light and heat lull him to sleep.
Bonnie handed Elena a pint of Cherry Garcia and a can of Reddi Whip.
"Back up, back up. Repeat that."
Elena rolled her eyes. "Honestly Bon, does it matter?"
"Does it matter?" Bonnie dropped her spoon and grabbed Elena's shoulders. "Damon is in love with you. Stefan is in love with you. You are caught between two vampires. Be a little concerned, please."
"I'm not caught, Bonnie," Elena said with a smile.
It was Bonnie's turn to roll her eyes. "Ugh. Do you think that will stop Damon from doing what Damon does?"
"No, but give me some credit, will you?"
Bonnie sat back and took up her spoon. "I just want you to be careful. You know what they say about history repeating."
"Well, I'm not an evil vampire bitch so I think I have better chances."
Bonnie laughed. "True."
"And I have a best friend who has my back," Elena grinned.
They clinked spoons and Elena started talking about her costume for the Founder's Day Parade. Bonnie half-listened. Isobel had what she wanted. And she would use it. But when? She looked over to Elena. She was joking about Stefan getting a tan. Panic rose in her. What she did—Elena would never forgive her if something happened to Stefan.
Her mind raced. There was only one option left.
Bonnie sunk her spoon in the ice cream. "Elena, why would Isobel need the watch?"
Elena stopped mid-sentence. "What?"
"Why would Isobel need the watch?"
"I think it has something to do with Katherine. She escaped and left the tomb vampires to rot for a century."
Elena gave her a sidelong glance. "Why?"
Bonnie shook her head. "Nothing, just wondering."
Elena handed Bonnie her spoon. "It doesn't even matter now anyway. The device is useless."
Bonnie nodded. For the rest of the night her mind was divided between exfoliating and Chad Michael Murray, the watch she didn't de-spell, and the moral implications of killing.
Bonnie rolled the final log into place and stepped back. She did it. Five logs stood in a row, evenly spaced. Her backyard wasn't the place she wanted to practice, but it was the only place she knew she wouldn't be disturbed, not in this weather.
Cool, fat drops added a shimmer to the night. Gram's wind chimes created a cacophony of sound on top of the rain hitting the ground. Bonnie was soaked through her sweatshirt and cotton shorts but she shrugged her shoulders and whipped her hair back into a ponytail.
This was it. The final practice. Hell, the only real practice. Bonnie inhaled and shook her hands. Calm. Calm.
The logs shot into the air, scattering over her every which way. They were too high for her to see in the rain and the darkness. A knot formed in her back. She released the logs and closed her eyes.
"3…2…1."
Her eyes snapped open and she raised a hand to the sky. A log exploded. She turned as one nearly hit the ground and set it on fire, then ducked and swung a log into her neighbor's yard. The last two were seconds from hitting the ground. When they hit the grass, they were burning blue.
Bonnie turned her face into the rain. Tomorrow night she would go to the tomb.
"Ms. Bennett?"
Bonnie jumped and looked up. Alaric Saltzman stood over her desk. Bonnie glanced around to see empty seats.
"Oh my God," she whispered. Saltzman stepped back as she shoved her notebook into a bag. He reached for her when she tripped getting out from behind the desk.
"Are you okay, Bonnie?"
Bonnie nodded, glancing at the hand on her upper arm. He wore a ring similar to the Salvatores. He caught her looking and placed the hand in his pocket.
"You're friends with Elena Gilbert, right?"
Bonnie straightened the desk. "Uh, yeah. You're friends with her aunt, right?"
Alaric grinned. "You could say that."
"Okay, well, until next week." Bonnie bent her head and edged around him.
"I was wondering, since you seemed so enthralled during class today, what you thought of the new cultural sensation surrounding the supernatural."
Bonnie stopped. "What?"
Alaric sat at her desk. "Vampires, witches, magic. What do you think about our fascination with these subjects?"
The question was earnest and yet although Bonnie was out of it for most of the class, she knew the topic was Watergate.
Her eyes went to his ring. "I think we are fascinated with them because…they represent a darker side of us, maybe a side that is unusual but also real."
Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Real?"
"We all know the myths, but aren't myths stories we tell to understand things we can't explain?"
Alaric clasped his hands and smiled. "Very good, Bonnie."
She tugged on her bag strap. "I…I don't think Twilight was the subject of today's lesson, Mr. Saltzman."
Alaric toyed with his ring. "No, I just wanted your opinion on a thought I've had since coming to Mystic Falls. I've learned much of its history and how rooted the supernatural is in its lore."
"Oh," Bonnie said.
"One more thing, before you go," Alaric said as Bonnie turned to leave.
"The supernatural is not always dark. Vampires do kill, but they also don't glitter in the sun," he said. Bonnie chuckled.
"So there's a balance, huh?"
Alaric stood. "It's a lot more complicated than good or bad, right or wrong. Sometimes, things can't be explained. Sometimes things are what they are."
Bonnie frowned. Alaric sensed she was uncomfortable so he offered her an easy smile.
"I'll see you next week, Ms. Bennett," he said.
Damon watched her figure disappear beyond the glass panes of the school doors. Sometimes things are what they are. Alaric was one smooth boy. He stepped out of the shadows and in a quick movement sat on a desk in the middle of the classroom.
Alaric didn't even look up from his desk. "I'm busy."
"Didn't ask and don't care. You chatted?"
"Yes, we talked."
Damon waited. "And?"
Alaric sighed. "And you already know what was said."
"She's an intelligent girl. Cagey. Even your Mr. Rogers act couldn't shake a confession out of her," Damon said.
Alaric laughed. "Wait. Was that a compliment?"
Damon looked toward the window. "It's not a compliment, it's a fact."
"Whatever you say, Damon." Alaric slung his bag across his chest and grabbed his coat.
"Whatever you think about Bonnie Bennett is wrong. She's a good person with a good heart and—"
"Oh God," Damon groaned, "what's with the PSA?"
"You're hunting for something that has everything to do with Katherine and nothing to do with that kid. Yeah, Damon," Alaric said when Damon thrummed the desk in irritation, "she's a kid."
Damon waved him off. "Didn't Sting write a song about this? I think you might be the Lolita in this situation."
"Fuck off, Damon," Alaric said.
"Until next time," he replied. He waited until he heard Saltzman exit the building to run a hand over every desk until he got to hers. Beneath Alaric's human taint was Bonnie's distinct feel.
She ruffled the fabric of matter, pushed atoms aside and rearranged the chemical composition of air. Heat was here. He placed his palm flat on the desk and there was a pulse of that power. Faint, but enough to make his stomach clench.
Damon had a little trust in human loyalty, shit, loyalty period, but what trust he had it was in Elena and Bonnie's friendship. He tapped the desk. He was being irrational. There were other issues requiring his attention, chiefly finding Katherine.
But.