A/N: Sorry about the delay. Enjoy!
Hate is a skinny thing
Bonnie was floating. Cool golden water lapped against her body. A fine mist from the falls kissed her face. The sky above was a clear blue. The trees reached high above her. Branches formed pockets of shade around the pool.
Bonnie turned her head. Grams floated next to her. She reached out and took the offered hand. It was solid and warm, alive.
"Grams, you've been here all along?"
Sheila grinned into the sun. "I'm here right now."
"But who knows tomorrow, right?" Bonnie smiled when she laughed.
"You remember. Your mama came up with that, sassy girl."
Bonnie squeezed her hand. Sheila turned to her. "You're not dead."
Sheila sighed. "I am baby. Dead but not gone. You needed help so I'm back here, where I taught you the most important lesson I could."
Bonnie closed her eyes and breathed. Her lungs expanded and deflated without pain. Air escaped without noise. She kicked her feet and moved her arms. She was as fluid as the water. Nothing…hurt.
"How to heal," Bonnie said.
"You're stronger than I ever was. But you're still young, Bonnie, and I left you without guidance," Sheila started. Bonnie shrugged.
"But you're here now."
The sun was bright on her face. She looked to Grams who was half in the shadow, half in the light. Fear tightened her grasp on Sheila's hand.
"Bonnie, you need to let go. If you don't you'll drown and who will carry on?"
"Grams," Bonnie cried but Sheila shook her head.
"You have been blessed, baby. You have someone with whom you will tow the line. But you have to trust yourself, you have to let it go, Bonnie. Let it go."
Sheila winked at her and turned her face towards the ever-brightening light. Bonnie looked up to a pale sky. Even behind her eyelids it was pale. There was a growing heat on her face the spray from the falls couldn't cool. Her hand felt for her Grams and there was a squeeze and then water rushing against her palm. Bonnie rolled over into the light.
Sunlight fell into her eyes. Bonnie groaned and blinked. Her limbs were heavy and there was a slight pounding at the base of her skull. Her mouth was mossy and metallic tasting. Bonnie turned out of the sun's path into a pillow that was not her own.
She popped up. This room was not her room. This room looked like it was beamed out of a modern architecture magazine. It was uncluttered, bright, and huge. The sheets slid against her legs as she swung them over the side. They were silk, a deep chocolate brown color. Dread rose in her.
It increased by leaps as she stood and looked at herself. She had on a small black shirt that didn't leave enough to the imagination. It rode up to settle around her hips every time she breathed.
"Jesus Christ," Bonnie muttered as she pulled the shirt down.
"Yes?"
Bonnie scrambled for a pillow and used it as a shield. Damon was grinning on the other side of the room. The tirade died in formation as she took in not only the grin but the tousled wet hair and the slick toned body and the towel wrapped low around his waist.
"You look a little flushed, Bonnie. Is everything alright?" Damon asked.
Her eyes went to his face and saw the same kind of appraisal in his eyes. Mortified, Bonnie brought the pillow back up to cover her body.
Damon's smile grew with every second.
"What am I doing here?" Bonnie demanded.
"I think you fell asleep eating all that porridge."
"Enough with the allusions," Bonnie said. Damon rested a hand on the knot holding the towel in place. Bonnie immediately faced away. Her mind raced. The television came on with an explosion of sound and then quieted. He watched the local news. Of course he would.
"Everything after you picking me up is a blank," Bonnie said over the news report.
"You did the stupid thing and passed out with a concussion. Which doesn't surprise me. Drink the water next to you and take that aspirin."
Bonnie hesitated before obeying. She might still be dreaming. It would make more sense if she were dreaming. She gulped down one pill and was about to take the other when she remembered. It was the water splashing against her teeth, sliding down her throat. Blood. She could taste its metallic flavor.
"You fed me blood?" Bonnie questioned.
"Only a few pints."
She whirled, forgetting the pillow and the glass. Damon was right behind her, holding both. He tossed the pillow on the bed and set the glass on the bedside table. He straightened and looked down on her as she glared up at him. Anger diverted her attention from their partial nakedness.
"Just think of it as eating pints of your favorite flavor of Haagen-Dazs."
"Did you bleed someone? Did you—"
"Did I kill some poor, unsuspecting human to save you? Please," Damon said. His eyes shifted over her. "I have my standards."
The heat between them returned with sharpness like a limb regaining feeling.
"Get away from me," Bonnie said.
Her stomach clenched when he placed a hand on her arm. She expected...she didn't know. He had touched her before, but she was afraid of him then, or too focused on coming out of a conversation the victor. She didn't know he was not cold but warm, that his touch could be light.
"Before the hysterics, I need to check something." Before Bonnie could speak Damon lifted the shirt to examine her side. The skin was tender. She flinched when his thumb stroked the welts that had not disappeared. His breath was hot on her hip. The minute hairs on her torso rose towards him.
Bonnie shoved his hand away and stepped back. Beads of perspiration dotted her brow. Damon stood loose limbed in low-slung black jeans. Light slanted across him.
"You know I can kill you," Bonnie said.
"I am well aware you can," Damon said. Bonnie did not like the sudden neutrality in his voice. It contrasted with the usual predatory intent. He walked to the other side of the room and pick up a brown paper bag. He dangled it on one finger towards her.
"Elena brought you some clothes."
Bonnie held out her hand but Damon remained in place. She went to him and reached for the bag but he dropped it behind his back.
"You have no idea how tempting those pink bows have been. I think I'm going to miss them much too much to let them disappear so soon," he said. His eyes dipped to her waist then back up to her face. His lips twitched.
Bonnie snatched the bag from behind him. "Screw you."
"Okay," he said. She blinked. He was gone. She looked around for a full minute for any sign of him before looking for the bathroom. There wasn't one. She forgot that an animal like Damon would of course love to have an open space where he could see his victims/one-night stands shower and change and vice versa.
Bonnie went to the only door then thought better of it. He was probably on the other side, smirking, waiting to harass her. She emptied the contents of the bag on the floor with a muffled curse. She yanked off the black shirt and pulled on the white tank and gray cardigan.
Bonnie bent to put on her jeans when she heard a deep groan.
"Goodbye pink bows," Damon said from the bed.
Instead of going berserk, Bonnie pulled up the jeans without a word or look in his direction. Damon whistled and Bonnie swallowed the raw urge to kill him.
She spotted her boots next to the bed and sat on the ground to tug them on.
"So, now that you're decent and somewhat back to normal, why don't we talk about the reason you're here," Damon said.
"How about I get the hell out of here before I turn you to ash?"
"How about we cut the bullshit?"
He stood over her as she laced up the boots. Bonnie jerked the laces. It was better if she kept her head down. She was off, there were some raw nerves and one thought about the watch and her mission and he would know. She knew he knew by the way he loomed over her.
"Are you going to answer me or am I going to have to get persuasive?"
Bonnie stood. "I think we've done this before, and every time we seem to end up getting nowhere. I say we skip the fight and go straight to the stalemate. Deal?"
Damon closed the distance between them.
"I saved you," he said.
"So?"
"So you owe me."
Damon heard her heartbeat slow. Her green eyes flattened with annoyance.
"I remember saving you too. That branch didn't come out of nowhere, you know."
Something happened. Maybe it was the way the sunlight hit her face, maybe it was the slight movement of her shoulders as she talked, maybe it was the cut of her shirt. Whatever it was, Damon wanted to touch her. In a non-homicidal way. In an unnecessary way. His hands felt full of direction.
Bonnie thought he was waiting for something. She began to fidget and his hands moved. They never reached her forearms as she stepped around him and darted to the door.
"We're not done," Damon said.
The door opened and closed. His hands fell.
Bonnie watched the sun rise over the forest and sighed. She couldn't sleep. Shutting her eyes placed her in the way of remembering, and she wanted to forget. We're not done.
She buried her face into the pillow and let his voice echo until it was faint. Every time there was a creak or a draft or movement at the edge of her vision it was Damon come to torment her, to rehash every moment from that night and inflict more of his Vampire mojo upon her.
She knew he was biding his time, and that made every second of the past two days utter misery.
Her cell phone chirped and jumped on the bed stand. She read the display.
"It's too early," Bonnie groaned.
"I know but duty calls. I suffer, you suffer."
"But you get to suffer with a full night's rest and no nightmares."
There was silence. Bonnie heard the words Elena wanted to say in the meantime. It was hard for her friend to not press the issue, but Bonnie was staunch in her decision to not talk about it. She didn't want Elena asking questions that would lead her to confess the truth.
"I still think Damon did something to you. Maybe when you drank his blood he created a link to your mind or feelings."
Bonnie sighed. "Really?"
"Well, it's possible. Stranger things have happened, Bonnie."
Bonnie ran a hand threw her hair. "So you think he's torturing me telepathically."
"Okay, when you say it like that, no. But it's about him, isn't it?"
Bonnie absently stroked her side. "If I'm going to have to engage in this stupid town's stupid rituals, I want Jenna's peach cobbler with praline ice cream."
There was a pause. "Wait, for breakfast?"
"Yes. That and a ban on vampire talk until we actually see one."
Elena made a noise. "Fine. See you in thirty."
They hung up and Bonnie fell back onto her pillows. She read nothing about blood and telepathic links in Emily's grimoire or in Gram's books. She also didn't come across anything about instantaneous heat.
Her eyes fell to the time. She scrambled off the bed and into the shower. There was plenty of time to agonize over the whys. All she had to do was get through the day without completely losing it.
The square was packed with people building, painting, and sewing. Bonnie was glad for a break from painting the Ball float. The hot sun bore down on her bare head as she maneuvered through the various building sites to stand in line for a sandwich and some lemonade. She was returning a text message when someone bumped into her.
"Excuse me," Bonnie said, eyes still on the cell phone.
"I have some questions for you," Damon said.
Bonnie snapped her head to her right. Damon stood beside her, a bag of shelled peanuts in his hands.
"I'm not in the mood to do this," Bonnie said.
"Well, we can always do this later…" Damon paused, " or we can cause a scene and I can let it slip to Elena the whole watch deal."
Bonnie drew up, startled. "What?"
"Hey, it's up to you. I'll even let you choose the time and place," Damon said. He shelled a peanut and ate it, eyes bright.
Bonnie shut her eyes. He knew. At least he was giving her the opportunity to choose the setting for this battle. The sooner done, the better.
"My house. Nine."
Damon nodded and began to walk away. "The ham sandwich is crap, by the way. Not enough meat," he said.
Bonnie went with lemonade and a PB&J.
For once Bonnie was grateful no one was home. She dropped her purse on the little table by the door and checked the time. 8:00 pm.
She needed solitude. She was halfway up the stairs when she jogged back down and went to the kitchen. She needed to prepare a fucking plan. The likelihood of this being a rational, conciliatory meeting was nil. Damon was cunning. He usually got ahead of himself sometimes, but he seemed to come out with more than he went in.
She could be cunning too. He would probably come early and wait somewhere in the house. Her room. Very Damon. What did she know? He was currently harassing Elena and Stefan (Elena sent her an SOS). She killed seven vampires. She could make objects burst into flame. She had an advantage. Bonnie went to the pantry and opened the jumbo box of Cheez-Its they finished off about a week ago. It was the perfect size to hide the grimoire.
Bonnie took the grimoire and flipped through the pages. Her face lit into a smile when she found the spell. Intermediate level stuff, but she could do it. And she had all the ingredients.
She was ready and waiting by 8:20 pm.
The house phone rang.
Bonnie read the number. She hesitated a full ten seconds before answering.
"Caroline this better be—"
"Two things: One, I am losing my mind with all this Miss Mystic Falls business. Fundraisers, dances, parties, balls? I have like, five tests in the next three days and Mrs. Lockwood is breathing down my neck like some medieval dragon, which leads me to two—what am I going to do about this French test Friday? Conjugate this Bonnie, 'I am flipping out, you are flipping out, he/she/it is flipping out.' Arggghhh! And then there's Matt—"
"Whoa, what?"
"Matt. Might. Break. Up. With. Me. Me! Just when things are going really well, just when we're entering the neutral zone of happiness and dating."
Bonnie picked up her purse and keys. "Ok, I'll be over in ten. But I am warning you now, I only have fifteen minutes tops to join you in commiseration land, okay?"
"Bonnie, if only I knew how to say 'I love you' in French."
"Okay, crazy," Bonnie laughed.
The hour and minute converged at nine the moment Bonnie stepped through the door. She shrugged off her jacket and walked the short hall to the kitchen. She set her purse on the island, went to the fridge, and took out a bottle of water. Listening made her thirty.
She closed the fridge and walked back down the hall to the living room. She looked at her watch. 9:05 pm. The metronome on the mantle above the fireplace ticked at a faster rate than normal. Bonnie sat on the couch and turned on the television. She flicked through channels. Bear Grylls was in the Appalachian Mountains. Bonnie dropped the remote and settled back.
At 9:15pm the metronome stopped altogether. Bonnie shut off the television and went to inspect it.
"Are we playing a game?"
Bonnie turned. Damon reclined on the couch, head on a pillow, feet propped up on the armrest. She willed herself to remain steady as he cast a lazy eye about the room.
"Well?" he asked.
"I said nine. I was here."
"Usually you head straight to your room, shower, get in those drab pajamas and lights out," Damon said. He sat up. "I think you were preparing an offense."
Bonnie filed away the fact Damon knew her nightly ritual for later. A pattern emerged with Damon: you think you're ahead when you're actually miles behind. No turf was safe for Bonnie—he was a killer, and killers adapt.
The best way to offset being caught was to admit it. "Did you honestly expect I wouldn't?"
Damon gave her a half grin. It was the first genuine action she's seen him do since this morning. "I expected you to lie. Normally you bomb at lying, but when it comes to my kind, you have a winning poker face."
Bonnie shrugged. "From what I've read, your kind and my kind aren't exactly best of friends."
"No," Damon stood, "not unless we have a common goal. The enemy of my enemy, Bonnie."
"We're not friends."
Damon raised an eyebrow. He tapped a finger against his mouth and turned. He slow walked around the coffee table. Bonnie forced herself to keep still.
"I am curious as to this offensive tactic you were planning," Damon stopped and said.
Bonnie stared at him. "It doesn't work that way."
"Oh," Damon said. It was suddenly very quiet. Damon shifted and Bonnie saw. It was a moment of foresight or maybe it was a combination of insight and understanding. In a second Bonnie recalled his true age, the seconds in the woods, the soft exhalation of "Oh."
Damon lunged at the same time she stepped forward. The candles she ringed around the room flared to life and Damon reared back with a snap. There was a whoosh and the house went dark. Bonnie felt a weight descend over her, muzzling her powers. Her heartbeat quickened as she thought of fire and nothing happened. It worked.
Damon whistled. She heard his boot scrape the floor. "Some trick."
A wave of disorientation caused her to lean towards the fireplace. She misjudged the distance and was on her way to the ground when a hand gripped her arm and set her right.
"From what I've read, newbies are only suppose to move things around and set people on fire."
Bonnie blinked. Blood trickled down the back of her throat. The dizziness didn't dissipate. She reached out and held onto his arm.
They stood there in the darkness for a minute before Damon led her to the couch. She didn't let his arm go as he sat her down, so he sat next to her. His sense of being was under some thick veil. He smelled her blood but the impulse to turn was muffled. Was it her hand resting on his arm? Damon touched the flesh there. She had warm skin, soft. She didn't flinch. Most likely she didn't even feel it.
"You peeked at the back of the book," Damon said.
"It was easy to cast. Should have known better," Bonnie whispered.
"Well, here we are, in a supernatural stalemate. What do we do now?"
"You know what I did."
Damon sat back, bringing her with him. Her hand was still on his arm. Her blood was sharp in his nose.
"I know what you didn't do."
"I couldn't do it."
"Because you hate vampires."
"Yes."
"Stefan saved you on, what was it, three occasions? You hate him?"
Bonnie gave him a sharp glance. "I hate you."
Damon smiled. "Oh, and here I thought you adored me."
"Look, if you think I feel guilty about it, I don't. Not really. It's another weapon to use against vampires. But," Bonnie paused, "I know it would hurt Elena if something happened to Stefan. And, I guess, you. To a lesser extent."
Damon looked up to the ceiling. Car lights flashed then only shadows, navy and black. Her breathing had evened out. The blood had stopped. Her hand slid away to rest in her lap. He had come here to terrorize her, get a little bloody maybe. But she had intrigued him. It had been a long time since someone played a level game with him.
"Why are you here?"
Damon turned his head to peer at her. "I was bored playing Risk with John."
Bonnie let out a frustrated breath. "So what are you going to do?"
"What are you going to do?"
"I asked you first."
"And I asked you second."
Bonnie shook her head. "The only option I have is to take away the reason to use the watch."
Damon was silent. She was serious.
"How many of them have you killed?"
"Eight. Seven. Technically, you killed one, the French vampire."
Damon went back to staring at the ceiling. Here he thought Elena was Buffy. She didn't even sound like her normal, self-righteous self. It was as though she flipped a switch and voila! Bonnie Rambo.
He liked it.
"Here's the deal," he moved a little to face her. "I won't destroy your friendship with Elena in exchange for equal share in the hunt."
Bonnie knitted her brows. "What?"
"It's obvious you can't hack it without help. And I need a break from this 'sit and wait and watch Elena moon over Stefan' routine. So we partner up, kill some revamped vamps, and possibly figure out what Uncle John and Mama Izzie are up to."
Bonnie shook her head. "No."
Damon nodded. "Yes."
"I can't trust you."
"I don't trust you either. But there are more important things than our feud, Bonnie."
She stared at him, her face a scrunched up ball of doubt. Damon sighed. "For Elena?"
Bonnie searched his face. There were innumerable reasons not to do this, chief among them her utter contempt for Damon. He followed his own agenda, he was dangerous, and he was reckless. Plus he had some issues with unrequited love. He was a mess Bonnie did not want to get involved in but…Bonnie sighed. Damon was powerful. She had limits and he seemed to recognize none.
Bonnie got to her feet. Damon watched her pick up a candle next to the fireplace. She came back to the sofa and reached into the side.
"Hold this," she handed the candle to him.
He took it. Bonnie opened a matchbook and struck a match. The flame made her face look small and drawn.
"The only way to end the spell is for us to blow out one of the candles used in the spell."
"You're kidding me."
Bonnie pursed her lips. The match died. She struck another. "I can live with being a regular girl. Can you live with being a regular boy?"
Damon tilted the wick to the flame. The fire was white and blue.
"On three," he said.
"One," Bonnie said. She leaned forward.
"Two," Damon said. Her eyes met his.
"Three."