A/N: Writer's block is a massive bitch. This chapter is me getting over it. I was so tempted to just leave 'Undisclosed' incomplete, but as a reader, I know how pissy I get when an author does it. So enjoy, awesome readers. It's for you that I continue.

Quell

"Before you say anything, I played a minor part in the sequence of events leading up to this," Damon said.

"Bonnie is upstairs, unconscious, and you can't give me an exact reason why," Elena said.

They stood at opposite ends of the wooden island in the Gilbert kitchen. Two half-empty mugs of tea and a leather tote sat on the counter. Elena had her hair up in a messy ponytail and the robe she wore hung open, revealing a pink camisole and turquoise sleep shorts decorated with floating sheep. Damon appreciated her cuteness despite being tired and concerned.

"If you start pouting I might make a pass at you."

Elena sighed. "I think I've been pretty patient about the whole 'secret alliance' thing. I'm ready to hear anything remotely truthful at this point."

Damon drank the rest of the tea. Stefan would choose this moment to turn off his Elena homing beacon and leave him to deal with the more infuriating aspects of her personality. The abiding concern for Bonnie reminded him of the early days with Stefan, before he spiraled off to depths even Damon found distasteful.

Elena regarded him with growing agitation. Damon shifted his weight. There was a rustle of linen and cotton upstairs. "Bonnie is awake," he said. He glanced at Elena. Her brown eyes scanned his face then fell to the side.

"I could have taken her back to the Manor. I could have but I wanted her safe."

Elena stared at him. Damon toyed with the mug.

"Is Bonnie in danger?"

"Yes," Damon frowned, "maybe, I don't know. Witchcraft is generally over my head and outside my interest. However, Bonnie is…not."

"You're interested in Bonnie."

Damon made a face, about to dispute all the connotations associated with that simple phrase, but Elena locked her gaze on him and for fuck's sake, he couldn't totally lie to her even if he really really needed to.

"Only as far as her worth to me. As a vampire."

Damon heard a step on the stair. "I have to go."

Elena reached for his arm but he sped out the house. The air cooled the warmth from his cheek. He breathed it in, felt his lungs expand, then exhaled. He needed copious amounts of scotch and a dark room. Damon scrubbed his face. It started again. He turned back to scowl at the front door.

Bonnie gripped the banister as she went downstairs. A splintering string connected her head to her body. Every step required ten seconds pause. Her rational brain diagnosed her with a concussion and urged her body to turn around and go back upstairs to lie in a blue-black haze, but she needed to see someone, to explain something. She heard the voice, heard the door shut. But what she needed hadn't completely left yet.

She hurried as best she could down the stairs and groped for the front door. Cold air buffeted her face and she took a step outside.

It was dark and her vision blurry, but she made him out all the same.

"Damon," she said. Nausea forced her eyes closed. A hand grasped her arm but it wasn't him.

"Come inside, Bonnie. No one's out here," Elena said. Bonnie stood for a minute, confused and anxious and sick, wondering what she wanted him for, why she called for him, why she went limping after him. Elena put an arm around her shoulders and gently directed her inside. The motion upset her and she lost control of the nausea. After that, Bonnie passed out.

Fire. Everywhere. It ate the sky. Black wings beat it back. A hot wind on her face. The smell of burning flesh. A scream, or has there always been a scream? A scream, protracted and terrible, rose above the sound of the beating wings and the flames. It was human and familiar. It was her.

Bonnie woke and turned her head to the window. Daylight streamed through the gauzy white curtains. She looked over to the sleeping body next to her. Elena slept with her face turned into the pillow, one hand beneath it. Bonnie stared at her face, at the faint crease of worry not even sleep smoothed.

She sat up, carefully testing her muscles and head. A little sore, and there was a strange lightness in her head, but she was fine. A flash of fire broke through. Bonnie swallowed. She was fine. She slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were puffy. She smelled smoke on her clothes, that and salt, and oak and pine. The woods? She traveled through what she could remember from the past day. Damon at the table with Akiri. A bonfire. A ring of red women. Water. Night.

Bonnie splashed her face. Nothing but a jumble of images. And Damon. How did she even get here?

"Hey, wobbly. Had a rough night?"

Jeremy stood next to the sink. Bonnie frowned.

"I have no idea."

"You know, drugs are bad. Take it from me." Jeremy grinned and reached for his toothbrush.

"I'm not on drugs," Bonnie said.

"Well, drinking is bad. So is vomiting and passing out in the foyer."

"What?"

Jeremy nodded. "You're lucky I like you so much. Trying to carry you upstairs without getting puke on me was a task I'd rather not repeat."

Embarrassment warmed her face. Bonnie turned from the sink. "Oh God. I'm sorry. That…I don't know what happened…I can't believe…shit," she said.

Jeremy took her arm. "Hey, don't worry about it. Some serious shit happened. I'm glad you spewed and passed out here rather than somewhere else. You're safe here."

Bonnie offered him a small smile. "I'm just sorry I threw up everywhere. Very unattractive."

Jeremy shrugged. "Yes, well," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "you're still kinda cute."

Bonnie swatted his arm away and pushed him. "Shut up," she said when he laughed.

Elena shuffled to the door. She yawned, scratched her head, and squinted. "What's up, guys?"

"God, you look terrible in the morning. Even worse than Upchuck over here."

Elena punched Jeremy in the arm. "Oh, funny. Stick to being a stoner."

"I will, thanks for the permission."

"Idiot."

"Saint."

Bonnie watched them argue and fight over the toothpaste before quietly going downstairs. Jenna had left a note on the stove, something about historical society serfdom for the day and muffins in the stove.

Bonnie helped herself to a banana muffin and orange juice. Elena joined her a few minutes later. They went into the living room and watched Ren and Stimpy, chuckling for half an hour.

"So what happened last night? I tried to pry Damon open but he was unusually tight-lipped," Elena said during a commercial.

Bonnie rubbed her forehead. "I have no idea. It's all a mess up here."

"Let's try to sort it out then."

Bonnie glanced at her. Elena had on that 'earnest and willing to help' expression that usually got them both in trouble.

"I don't know."

"Okay, how about I tell you what I know and we go from there," Elena said. She turned down the television and positioned herself to face Bonnie.

"So. You've been sneaking off to your Grams house almost every afternoon. You've been working with Damon, and last night Damon brought you here unconscious and smelling like a bonfire. He fidgeted a lot, totally out of character, admitted he cared about you, and left. Then you went after him, calling his name, and when he wasn't there you lost your stomach and fainted." Elena raised an eyebrow. Bonnie sat in silence.

"He admitted he cared about me?" Bonnie asked.

"Bonnie—"

"Only in a professional vampire way, right?" Bonnie shook her head. "Yes, of course. Right."

"Can you see where I'm going with this?"

Bonnie shrugged. "No."

"Is there something going on between you two? Something like Damon's idea of a date? Did you, you know," Elena rolled her eyes at Bonnie's perplexed frown, "did you have sex with Damon after a night of debauchery?"

Bonnie flailed. "What? No! Never, no, not, no! Debauchery? Sex? Damon? No. Absolutely not. Farthest thing from actuality. From plausibility."

Elena took Bonnie's arms and stilled her. "Then what's going on? Because you really scared me last night."

Bonnie looked at her for a moment, unsure of how much truth she should tell. Elena wouldn't understand, but she'd try and for some reason, it'll be worse. But if she couldn't tell Elena, the one person in the entire world who she trusted implicitly, then who could she confide in? Bonnie released a heavy sigh.

"Fine. I'll start from the beginning. And don't tell Stefan. This stays between you and me. And maybe Caroline."

Damon woke up with a blanket thrown over him. Stefan. He felt for the neck of a bottle and snagged an almost empty bottle of 1780 bourbon whisky. He emptied it in one swallow and threw the blanket off. Someone threw back the heavy curtains to let the sun come marching in. Stefan, again.

"This nanny business has to end," Damon called out. He bent down to pick up the various empty bottles off the rug. A tea service rested on the table with all his readings. Coffee, cream, sugar.

"Mrs. Doubtfire strikes again," Damon mumbled. He cleaned the mess of his rather tame abandonment and returned to the tea service, gulping down the coffee. His head began to clear and he remembered the night before, in high definition. Thirst wetted his mouth. He needed some blood, a shower, and a drive to Florida.

The hot water drummed his muscles. The lemongrass scented steam calmed his mind. He needed to think. Logically. He had too much on his fucking plate. Werewolf business, Katherine, moonstones, curses, and now bad juju witch business. Shit. And feelings.

"Let's not forget those," he said into the spray. And they had to be so damn complicated. Tricky. Sneaky.

Damon stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He went to the sink and stared into the mirror. Not a day over twenty-one. Ha. He tensed and darted to the opposite wall, pinning a soft body against it.

She looked the same, felt the same, and smiled exactly the same.

"What a welcome greeting."

Damon squeezed the hand around her throat. "Katherine."

Katherine rolled her eyes and suddenly Damon was on the floor, Katherine straddling his hips, her hands on his shoulders.

"You and Stefan always seem to forget that I'm stronger, faster, better. It's cute."

"I'm sorry, our minds have been on other things for the past century and a half."

Katherine smiled. Her lips hovered above his.

"I can tell you missed me."

She rolled her hips. Damon flipped them over and kissed that smile off her lips. It was brutal and hungry and he felt as through he was drowning. Katherine. Her hair twisted around his fingers and her skin tasted like cherries, his favorite. They clawed at each other, gasping, working on her clothes. Her hands grabbed his ass and pressed his erection into her crotch. Damon moaned against her throat.

"See? You're not so indifferent to me after all," Katherine whispered in his ear. She bit the lobe. A hot flash of anger cut through the lust. Damon pushed off her and went to the corner of the room.

He heard her laugh. "I have a weakness for pretty brunettes with long legs," he said.

"Oh, yes, I know. Especially for ones who are identical to me. Tell me," Katherine stood up and shook her hair, "who were you just about to fuck, me or Elena?"

Damon snarled at her. Katherine lifted a shoulder. "I don't mind. It's only sex."

"The years have made you vulgar. But you have always been a twisted little bitch, haven't you?"

Katherine buckled her belt without taking her eyes off him. "And you have always been such a romantic cuckold. Really, you are pathetic. Even now, you want to hate me, but you can't. Because you love me."

He nearly forgot his disadvantage then. Katherine bared her teeth, her eyes swimming in blood. "Uh uh, careful. I like you, but only so much, and only because Stefan would never forgive me if I tore you apart."

It was as if a switch turned off. Damon sagged back. Stefan, again. Still. Only. Terrible, formless thoughts filled his head. Hatred. The world burning down. Destruction. Love meant nothing. At least his love meant nothing. Damon stared at her, this object of his undying love for nearly two centuries. He saw Elena there, softer, benevolent, but with the same intention, the same feelings.

"What do you want?"

Katherine eyed him. Her face went from playful to serious in an instant. "I need your help."

Damon straightened. "Let me put on a dress and some makeup first."

"Mind if I watch?" Katherine asked with a grin.

The one thing to know about Katherine was there was always, always an ulterior motive. Simple was not an adjective used to describe her. Maybe at one time, a moment when she was young, but it was so fleeting it never made an impression. So Damon listened to her talk about Akiri, the witches, the moonstone, and the curse and kept his bullshit meter at about 50.

Damon sipped some chilled AB neg before asking, "Cool story and all, but where does any of my business come in?"

Katherine glared at him. "I know your witch has the moonstone."

"So?"

"I want it. This is bigger than Akiri and her witch council."

"Her witch council? Aren't you just as involved in this retrieval mission?"

Katherine sniffed. "My involvement only goes to far."

"Ah," Damon drank the rest of the blood, "you were only in it for your own purposes, and then, let me guess, your own purposes hitched itself to a better deal."

"Don't gloat, Damon. It makes you look like drunk tick."

"And to think of all the things you used to do to this tick," Damon replied. Katherine crossed her legs and sat back. She watched him for some time.

"I could kill you, you know that."

Damon nodded. "Good thing I'm so handy."

"I also know that, with such leech-like ability, you've attached yourself to Bonnie Bennett. I know of her increasing importance to you."

Damon stood up with a laugh. "Let me stop you right there. You can threaten to kill her. As a matter of fact, go ahead, try. I'll gladly dump your shriveled up ass in some shit sewer."

He went to stand in front of the windows and watch the sprinklers drown the lawn. Katherine came to stand next to him. She peered at his face.

"I should have let you had your way earlier. It would have made this easier."

"Maybe," he said.

"I need the moonstone. There's…someone coming, someone who wants it more than I do, who will literally raze this town and slaughter every single person you know just to glimpse at it. I am nothing compared to what's coming."

Damon looked on her. The truth sounded strange coming from her. So did fear. He could taste it. Interesting.

"Who is coming?"

Katherine shook her head. "Get me the moonstone and I'll give you an address."

"Why do you want the moonstone?"

"Collateral."

Damon looked out at the arc of glittering water. "Sure. Well, Bonnie doesn't have it. Akiri does. And I went and soured that relationship, so."

Katherine sighed with impatience. "Fine. Then we'll get the moonstone. It'll take two of us anyway."

"Two of us to do what?"

Katherine's mouth twisted into a grin. "To kill Akiri, of course."