A/N: Damn, it has been a long time. I promise this won't turn into one of those discontinued fics that clog up . It will be completed. Might take me a thousand years, but it will (maybe a month or two, maybe). Thank you readers for commenting, alerting, and adding to your favorites. Thank you for reading period. This is a long chapter, so be warned. No sexy stuff though. Not yet. Enjoy.

Smoke

Akiri packed a few grams of dried leaves into a multicolored glass pipe, held a lighter over the leaves, and drew in the smoke until her eyes watered. She swallowed the coughs. It took a whole bowl to ease the pain. Afterwards she lay on the couch and listened to a Miles Davis album. It was worn and there were a few scratches, but she liked the old quality of the sound, especially the audible rasp of the needle of the gramophone. Sheila must have loved Miles Davis.

A tear tickled her scalp. Akiri wiped it away. The darkness pressed her into the cushions. There were many spells for tears. Many spells to numb the cruelty of memories. She often thought of having Bonnie cast one, inadvertently of course, but it was the coward's way. She did not wish to be numb. It was best to feel every spike of terror, every spasm of hopelessness to impress upon her mind the necessity of being in Mystic Falls.

The record skipped. Akiri sat up. All the candles in the living room flared. She lifted the needle from the disc and lowered the cover carefully. Several grimoires lay in plain sight on a record stand. She sent them to their hiding places.

The vampire approached under the cover of swiftly falling darkness. Akiri felt it before the soft click of the gate latch sounded. She went to the freezer and pulled out a chilled bottle of B+.

No knock landed on the door. Akiri flicked on the back porch light and stepped out. The stone path to the veranda was lit. Halfway there a shadow joined her.

"You never invited me to the housewarming."

Akiri set the bottle and a glass on a glass table. Pale yellow light winked on. The vampire reclined on a seat. Akiri took the opposite chair. They were both dressed in black, except she wore a loose shift and the other wore skin tight leather pants, a fitted tank, and studded high-heeled boots.

"I am amazed at your wardrobe every time I see you. Black was never your color."

A smooth white shoulder lifted. Blood red lips formed a smile. "Black seems to be yours these days. I wonder why?"

Akiri narrowed her eyes. "What do you want, Katherine?"

Katherine poured the blood in the glass and sipped. "Oooh, I do so love your wine. Wherever do you get it?"

Katherine and her playful moods grated on her nerves. She always wanted to pretend at pleasantries. A black tentacle of pain cut her patience short. "A young man who bears a striking resemblance to Stefan. May I ask the reason for this visit?"

Katherine sat back with a pout. "Oh, play nice. I just came by to update you. I'm sure Bonnie has informed you of the latest events."

"She has. Bold move with the girl. You knew she had blood in her system?"

"Yes, Damon played white knight. They are positively out of their minds with fear. If only I can drink that."

Akiri rubbed a temple. "And the wolves?"

"A fucking nuisance. The moonstone has disappeared from the Lockwood mansion. The Agatha Christie Club plots and thinks. It's so amusing."

"I am sure your amusement is the reason for the low body count."

Katherine rolled her eyes. "Spare me the lecture on expediency. I have just returned from an extended absence."

"Katherine, this is not the time to indulge in whatever sadistic games you have in store for the Salvatore Brothers. They are not needed." Akiri dug a hand into the pockets of her dress to retrieve the pipe. She packed it and an invisible flame burnt the leaves to ash.

She blew the smoke towards Katherine with a level glare. "You waste my time with these boys."

"And you seem to think I care about your time. You are a handful of ash, Akiri." The beautiful face darkened. "I will do as I like, for as long as I like. I lack a deadline."

Katherine drained the rest of the glass and stood. She shook out her brown curls and lowered her glance over Akiri. "You would do well to remember that next time."

Akiri sat out on the veranda long after Katherine left. I lack a deadline. How deluded these vampires were. They weren't truly immortal. A stake, a shaft of sunlight, a ripe fire and she would be the handful of ash. Perhaps when this business was done she would remind Katherine of mortality.

Caroline twisted the ring around and around. Damon tossed her a blood bag.

"Now don't chew on the other kids and remember to keep the ring on. I don't want it getting lost."

"If I lose it I'll be an urn filler."

"And I'll have to sift through all your filthy bits to find it, so be a good, smart girl today."

Caroline glared at him. Damon smiled tightly. "Stefan! Your charge is ready!"

Stefan and Elena entered the foyer. Damon watched as his brother gave Elena a quick kiss on the lips. He turned to Caroline.

"Are you good?"

Caroline wiggled the ring at him. "Sunscreen, check."

Stefan opened the door for her and she skipped out. "Thanks Damon. See you tonight Elena," he said before leaving.

They were motionless and alone for ten perfect seconds. The house shrunk by a few hundred square feet. Elena filled his senses. Then she moved and the house expanded and the musty scent of old books, the aroma of fresh cut flowers, and the smell of the blood stained glass from breakfast crowded his nose and mouth.

Damon knew she preferred to be left alone so he wandered the house for a solid hour, hoping to come across an interesting book or an inspired idea to antagonize Stefan but Elena was in the library, Elena was in the house and his mind returned to her again and again.

He hopped across a large swath of sunlight into the library, agitated. If he had his ring, he would be out drinking or partying or, one of his least favorite activities, gleaning information from occult bookshops about supernatural beings. As of yet he knew a shitload of lore on everything from ghouls to succubae, none of which were of any practical use. If he had his ring. Damon sighed and knocked aside a chess piece. Two weeks of pass the ring with Stefan.

"This needs to stop. Now," Damon complained. Elena looked up from a history book.

"You should definitely do something about it then. She's probably at the lake with Caroline, getting some sun. Go join them."

"Ha ha," Damon said. He flopped next to her on the couch. "You're melting me, Elena. I would have never put up with this bullshit."

Elena went back to reading. "She needs time, Damon. Friends understand that."

"We're unwilling allies. What do they understand?"

Elena ignored him. Damon read over her shoulder. He lightly tucked a strand of hair behind Elena's ear. She untucked the strand and shot him a look.

"Damon, you're testing the limits of my forgiveness. Go do something," she cut him off, "by do something I mean not harass me."

Orders never sat well with him so he filched a book from Stefan's contemporary reading cache and caught up on the century's latest literary offering with Elena's elbow in his side.

Soon the words lost meaning as the present predicament pressed upon him. Damon hated being shackled. Skulking in the shadows, hunting at night, wearing shades indoors were activities he was not used to. His hand looked too normal without the clunky thing. And he had no leg up over a sizeable percentage of the vampire population four out of seven days. If Katherine were to pop up, it was her game in his house, his town. Stefan might be taking a sip now and then from his ladylove but the boy was at half his former strength. Nowhere near enough. The witch screwed up the entire defensive strategy with her strike.

They had a rag tag team going in. Now with the added presence of werewolves, his existence looked fucking dim. Without Bonnie it was…not unbearable, no. Inconvenient. Disadvantageous. Detrimental. Yes. The absence of Bonnie Bennett had become a detriment to his lifestyle and the subsequent hope of an extensive, blood enriched future.

Damon forgot the book and left the couch. He drifted to the shadow of the bay windows overlooking the lawn. All that smooth, sun-dappled green. Big green eyes reflected in the glass. He raised a palm to the sunlight. His skin tingled, then burned. It was a wonder he didn't combust when he slid his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, up her sides, along her neck.

He jerked his hand back. Blisters disappeared in an instant. It was his hand again. Damon slipped it in a pocket and gazed out. He had been generous, giving her time and space. It was past time he shook things loose again.

When she wasn't at home or school, Bonnie was with Akiri. The lessons had progressed to the point where she could create an intermediate memory loss spell, make a healing poultice, transform yarn to silk, levitate large furniture and conjure up lightning storms in the course of an hour without fainting. Fifty-eight minutes, to be exact.

"Very well done, Bonnie," Akiri praised. Bonnie smiled and drank a replenishing tea Akiri made after every lesson.

"I think I could have squeezed in a glamour."

Akiri grinned. It was the first since Bonnie began her education. She watched Akiri set down a red leather book and twist a silver ring on her finger. At once the candles in the house ignited. She tapped the rim of Bonnie's teacup. Clear, amber liquid quickly filled to the very top.

Bonnie suppressed an eye roll. "Whatever," she said to the teacup.

Akiri sat back, closed her eyes, and unbraided her hair. It shone like a sheet of pennies in the candlelight. Bonnie watched the other woman comb the waves with her fingers. They slid through the strands like a cutter through water.

"What happens when you've taught me everything you can?"

"What do you think will happen?"

Bonnie stirred honey into her tea. Akiri never sweetened the tea, no matter how many times she asked.

"I think you'll disappear. Like Mary Poppins."

Akiri gave her a quizzical look. "Mary Poppins? The woman with the bottomless bag?" The look turned to reproach. "What nonsense."

Bonnie brought the tea to her lips to keep from laughing. This felt akin to Sunday tea with Grams. Grams was a bit saucier, more talkative, but the atmosphere had the same playfulness.

She caught Akiri examining her as she would a sprig of thyme or a root of ginger.

"There is something beneath your clouds of thought," Akiri said.

Bonnie ran a quick tongue over the fading cut on her lip. "School is exhausting."

Akiri narrowed an eye. "Avoiding your friends must be very exhausting."

"Not really avoiding. Ignoring is more like it."

"I am assuming you haven't told Elena about the werewolves."

Bonnie shifted in the chair. She hadn't spoken to Elena in days. At least not about anything supernatural. That streak would be two weeks and counting. Not like Elena hadn't persisted in bringing the streak to an end. Bonnie had turned down an invitation to go swimming at the lake that afternoon—it reeked of a Caroline-needs-a-ring set up. And Caroline was a subject she most definitely avoided. Anything regarding vampires she wanted to excise from her life.

"I haven't had the opportunity, no," Bonnie said.

"The information might be useful to the company she keeps, Bonnie. And perhaps they too have information to share."

"I'm sure they know as much as I do. I put Damon on the trail awhile ago and by now he probably figured it out."

Akiri tilted her head. This was a surprising development. No twisting, no entrapments necessary. Voluntary information on the Salvatore brothers. There was more here, beneath the quick mention of his name. Damon, she thought. Bonnie ran a quick tongue over a cut on her lip.

"Your confidence in this Damon is surprising. Didn't you come to lesson one time cursing his stupidity?"

"I did," Bonnie sighed, "and he is a dumbass, really arrogant, totally self-absorbed, but under different circumstances, those qualities keep him alive. I'm sure the prospect of another force in Mystic Falls sent him scouring the shelves for knowledge."

Akiri smiled. "You know your enemy well."

Bonnie brushed away the feel of his hand on her neck. "I know him well enough."

Akiri sensed Bonnie's discomfort. The cut on her lip, so resistant to the poultices Akiri had made, made sense. It had been such a long time ago, the beginning. There was no personal ill will between them, only history. Tradition. But history defined the past and tradition could change. They were powerful enough to create a future, create new traditions. Wasn't that what he told her?

The memory of them, in a forest felled centuries ago, assailed her. She abruptly left the table and went outside. The wind shook the branches of the old oaks at the edge of the property. Her shawl billowed out in front of her. The sky darkened. Fire called to her but she clamped down on the impulse. No light, only darkness. She needed the darkness.

Akiri stood between two oaks and peeled back the darkness, searching. The thick thread between them, the thread that sustained them, was weak and brittle. She could not see him or hear him, but she felt him. He was cold. Ice made the blood in his veins sluggish. His skin was paper, cracked and sore. Cold.

Akiri. So faint. Relief flooded her, then anger. Joshua.

"Akiri!"

She was about to turn when Bonnie grasped her shoulder and pulled. A flash of white so bright it burned the air. She could taste the potency of generations, centuries. A rush of voices invaded her mind, indistinct save for one. No one is more powerful than nature. Remember.

The wind died and the clouds departed. Akiri spat the bile from her mouth as she sat up. A bolt of lightning struck an oak and split it. Two smoking, black halves lay toppled at her feet. She looked over to see Bonnie struggling to stand. Her eyes were big and face ashen. The gaze that landed on Akiri was heavy with fear.

"What was that?'

Akiri stood. Bonnie shook as she drew closer. No fledgling witch could withstand that much power at one time, without warning. She peered at Bonnie.

"Not what, Bonnie. Who," Akiri said.

Her muscles relaxed under the hot spray. She didn't care about getting her hair wet. The water drummed her skull. She pressed her forehead against the slick tile and exhaled. This was real. The water, the soap, the aching muscles. She had normal in her tote, homework, a math book, flashcards for history. She was a seventeen year-old girl. She was, she was, she was.

"Was," Bonnie said into the spray.

Steam turned her bathroom a dense white. She wiped the mirror and touched her hair. She should have put on a cap. Bonnie bent to retrieve a basket of hair products and looked again in the mirror.

Damon dissolved out of the steam with an appreciative smirk. "Hello."

Her first reaction sent him hurling into the shower. He crashed against the curtain, ripping the rod from the plaster and knocking loose a few tiles.

Before she could do anything more Damon had her against the wall, one hand at her throat.

"You let your shoulder drop. Bad defensive posture."

Bonnie fixed him with a glare. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes."

The steam grew denser. She smelled his aftershave, saw moisture beads glistening in his hair. Two weeks vanished as his hand slipped to trace her collarbone. She hated him. She—you don't hate me, Bonnie. His eyes were as sharp as they were light, two shards of glass. He wanted her. And she wanted…

Bonnie angled her mouth to press on the vein bulging from his neck. The blood throbbed beneath her lips. Time slowed to a breath. She expected a remark but he only eased back, inhaled, and then his lips were over hers, and then he was everywhere, covering every inch of her.

"Damon," she heard herself say. He looked at her and he was a vampire, the blue of his eyes swimming in reddish black.

Bonnie reared back and off the bed. A cascade of books followed. "Ouch," she croaked.

Details of the dream came back as she climbed back into bed. It was so vivid. The shower, the routine, Damon. Except she never dreamt of Damon kissing her.

Bonnie shot up.

"There's this thing called a moonstone. It's supposed to be important to the werewolves. It figures into their curse."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Curse? There's a curse now?"

Jeremy ignored him. "The werewolves used to be able to change at will. The details are all over the place, but the one sure thing is that this moonstone is important."

Stefan rubbed his jaw. "So we know the Lockwoods had it. We know it's important. What we don't know is why Katherine wants it."

"We need to clear up one seriously cloudy issue before we tackle the other cloudy issues," Damon said.

"And that is?" Elena asked.

"Why do we care about why? Katherine wants this rock. Okay. We get it, use it as leverage to get her where we want her and then kill her. Simple."

He had everyone sold until he said simple. Alaric frowned. "Simple never ends up being simple when you're involved."

"People end up dead who shouldn't end up dead," Caroline stated.

"I usually find myself running for my life," Elena added.

Damon pointed his finger at her. "And I usually swoop in and save you, let's not forget that."

"Damon's right. Why doesn't matter right now. We need to find the moonstone," Stefan said.

Caroline stood up. "There's a fundraiser in the park today. The Lockwoods will be there. Some of us can go, try to find out more while the rest can search the mansion."

Damon nodded. "Look at you, plotting. I'm impressed."

"Screw you too, Damon," Caroline responded.

Elena shrugged on her jacket. "Jeremy, Stefan, and I will go to the park."

"We don't get to pick special teams this time?" Damon asked. Elena merely pursed her lips and nodded to Stefan and Jeremy.

"Let's go."

Caroline turned in a huff to Damon and Alaric after Elena and the rest left.

"So I'm stuck here yet again while everyone gets to go out and mingle and break into a mansion and find a magical moonstone. This no sunlight thing sucks."

"Stop bitching. You have a free pass to do nothing while Laverne and I have to bust into a den of mangy animals to find a mood ring," Damon said.

Caroline screwed up her face. "Laverne?"

Alaric swooped a hand over his head and whistled. Damon shook his head.

"What are these young people watching?"

"Something called The O.C. Or what is it? Guido Shore?"

Caroline had her arms crossed in defense mode. Alaric started laughing and Damon went to the cabinet for a drink. He turned to hand Alaric a glass when he heard quick, determined steps heading towards the study. Female, human. Light, short paces. Blood orange and vetiver scent.

"Bonnie," Damon said. She paused in the entrance to the study. Her eyes went to Alaric then to Caroline and settled on Damon.

"We need to talk."

"Why, hello, Bonnie. You don't call, you don't write."

Alaric shrugged on his jacket. "Uh, I'll be at my place, gathering supplies. Meet me at three." He nodded to Bonnie and exited the room.

Caroline opened her mouth to speak then closed it. Bonnie dropped her head a little as she passed. A streak of sunlight fell across the doorway. Caroline pulled up short and would have knocked Bonnie over if not for a hand shooting out. A cloud passed over the sun. Bonnie looked at Caroline and let her go.

The door shut softly and they were alone.

"You want something from me, Damon?"

Damon poured himself a drink. "Well, come to think of it, it would really make my day if we repeated the events from the last time we saw each other."

Flames leapt from the fireplace. "Stay out of my head."

Damon smiled. "But you make it so easy to worm my way in."

Bonnie shook her head. "I thought it would mean something to come in here and threaten you, but you're so obvious." She flopped onto the couch and flicked a finger. A book landed in her lap. She flipped through the yellowed pages, eyebrow raised. "Werewolves, huh?"

"Maybe."

The book closed and flew back to its place. Bonnie folded her arms. "So, how may I be of assistance?"

Damon finished his drink. Her coolness perturbed him. Knowledge gleamed in her eyes, wavered there like flame in a window. He wondered how much she knew, if she knew about the werewolf bite, the curse, the moonstone. He wondered for how long. It had been two, nearly three weeks since their last tête-à-tête. Damon read her. Bonnie had come here different. More confident. Her power hung in the air, faint, but noticeable. He had counted on a blow up, a veritable bomb, but Bonnie sat there in her leggings and oversized shirt, hair swept back, light make up, and absolutely no qualms about being in his presence.

Bonnie frowned slightly. "Damon."

"Elena would appreciate it if you pulled your head out your ass and did your sworn duty."

"Elena, huh?" her lips switched. "I think Elena can handle herself."

Damon wagged a finger. "Don't be so sure. Humans are fragile."

"Stefan?"

"Stefan has his mantle and his lance all polished, he just doesn't know how to use the damn things."

"You?"

"Me?" Damon leaned against the desk and picked up a letter opener. "I'm a homicidal maniac. Last I heard they couldn't be trusted."

Bonnie shrugged. "Not trusted, no, but they are good for some things."

It was the closest statement to outright acknowledgment of his usefulness. Damon stuck the letter opener in the desk. "You're not here to bitch me out."

A grin cracked her cool. "Warmer."

"So," Damon smirked, "how may I be of assistance?"

Alaric glanced at his watch. 3:15. He tapped the steering wheel. Damon would call if the plan had changed, or if he was running late. At least Alaric hoped so. His day would be better spent lounging with Jenna or fine-tuning some weapons instead of waiting on the narcissist.

A hard rap on the driver window jerked him forward. Damon raised a crowbar and wiggled his eyebrows. Alaric swore under his breath.

"Jesus, really?" he asked as he stepped out the truck.

"Too conspicuous?"

"A bit, yeah."

Damon tossed the crowbar into a yard. "I agree. Bulky. We need something with a bit more finesse." Alaric was about to speak when Damon's phone rang. "Hold on, it's the minx."

"Hey, I was just thinking of you." Damon chuckled. "Where and when and for how long?"

Alaric audibly sighed. Damon nodded to him and cleared his throat. "Kitten, I'm being rushed off the phone. Keep warm for me. I might even bring you a treat." He grinned and hung up.

"You're confirming play dates before we commit burglary?"

"Rick, it's impolite to ignore a request from a willing lady. And it's purveying, not burglary." Damon trotted across the street to the Lockwood residence. Alaric gripped his briefcase and followed. They walked up the stone steps to the front porch and Damon rang the doorbell.

"Have you completely—"

The door opened and Bonnie came out, agitated. "It's not in the house."

Damon scratched a cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Damon, I'm sure."

Alaric frowned. "Uh, hello Bonnie."

"I probably should have called to update you," Damon said. Bonnie shook her head.

"I searched the house for the moonstone using a spell. It was here, but someone moved it," Bonnie said to Alaric. She turned to Damon. "I'm going to the park."

"We'll be right behind, Kitten."

Bonnie sent him a glare before stepping lightly down the steps. Alaric watched her drive away before turning on Damon.

"When did this happen?"

Damon went to open the door. It was locked and there was some additional resistance, some intangible force that pricked his skin. Not trust, no.

"About two hours ago. She missed me. We reconciled. It was beautiful."

Alaric grabbed his arm. "She's a kid."

"So was Teen Witch. Bet that didn't stop those wet and sticky nights, huh?"

"Cut the bullshit, Damon. Whatever game you're playing, quit while the stakes are low."

Alaric removed his hand when Damon smiled. It was more of a grin, the kind of grin that bordered on macabre. Damon squinted into the sun and slipped on a pair of wayfarers.

"You're a good guy, Rick. Keep on moralizing. But don't talk to me about risks and feelings getting hurt. We both know all that does is make me want to prove you right."

Damon tipped his head and continued down the street to his car. Alaric rubbed a hand over his face. A headache was forming right over his left eye. Perhaps he spoke to the wrong person. Perhaps…Alaric climbed into his truck and searched the glove box for Advil. He shook two pills into his palm and drank them down with cold black coffee. Perhaps his concern was for the wrong person.