"I'm glad you came around," Kai said, pouring himself a dark beer from the tap.

They chose to take advantage of the desolate Mystic Grill. Bonnie had never thought of it before, just walking in and pouring herself a free drink, or ten. Kai even snuck into the back and kicked on the sound system. She supposed she had a lot to learn about prison world living from the prison world connoisseur.

With his beer, he sat one stool away from her, leaving a respectful amount of personal space as if they were strangers. He glanced at her wounded hand and she tucked it protectively under the bar, out of sight. He had asked her to wrap it the moment they entered the enclosed space of the bar together, and she did as recommended, but she still felt the tension of hunger making his magic feel sharp. It was cause for caution.

"To loneliness," Kai said, holding his beer up. She hesitantly raised the blonde ale he'd poured for her and their glasses clinked. She watched him take his first sip before taking hers.

"Kai," she said.

"Bonnie," he responded.

"Why are we here?"

He glanced around, "I thought you needed a drink."

"You know what I mean. How did this happen to you…to us?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

She scratched mindlessly at the condensation on her cold glass. "I need to know. It doesn't feel right. It shouldn't have been possible. You killed everyone. I've been thinking about it a lot and reading through all these grimoires but I can't…fathom. Dead witches don't do spells."

"Not without a living one to channel them," he muttered.

"Was someone else there?"

He shrugged again, "I was looking at you." Bonnie felt an odd wisp run through her. It was quickly forgotten.

"They did die violently, where we were." Bonnie remembered channeling power from the witches who burned; the magnitude of their suffering cursed the very ground they died upon. Was it possible that someone channeled the deathly power of the Gemini Coven to spell their leader into the prison world?

"I don't know, Bonnie. Maybe something I did kick-started the spell, like it was hanging in the balance, just waiting for me to fuck up. It's a sore topic and I can't find an ascendant, so...moving on."

"Is that where you've been? Looking for an ascendant?"

Kai was distracted by the menu on the bar in front of him. "Ooh, they added nachos sometime in the last 18 years."

Bonnie frowned, "You're not interested in even trying to get back anymore?"

"Back to what?"

Bonnie opened her mouth to list off all of the things she herself missed, things she would have in common with almost any given person, but stopped herself. Kai, special case that he was, had little to return to.

After some consideration though, his prospects almost rivaled hers.

He took a tight-jawed drink from his beer, and she took the opportunity to take another miserable sip from her own while she eyed him.

"Suspicious, much?" he asked without throwing her so much as a glance.

"Still don't trust you. I probably never will."

"You probably shouldn't."

She smiled bitterly and raised her glass a second time, a private toast to herself and her mistakes.

"Although you should have," he added, turning an accusing gaze her way, "Instead of ditching me in 1903."

She rolled her eyes. "We went over this. In 1903."

"I really was different. You just couldn't give me a chance."

"Ok, if you were actually different, why are you speaking in past tense? Whatever you sucked up from merging with Luke isn't just gonna go away. If you were actually a changed man-child, you wouldn't have killed your coven, and we wouldn't even be here."

"If you hadn't left me behind, we wouldn't be here."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means maybe if you took your chance to be the first person who's ever believed in me, I wouldn't have lashed out."

"Please. Take responsibility for your actions."

"Likewise. I take responsibility, gladly. Yes, I killed my family. Yes, I killed a sprinkle of strangers along the way. Yes, I took the cookies from the cookie jar. And yeah, I hurt you. All a means to an end."

"And you'd do it again."

He shrugged, "If any other ends required means. But I doubt that would happen. And actually, you getting hurt was never instrumental, it was never the means to any of the damned ends. Until the end," he admitted. "Hurting you…kind of important. Had to see if you meant anything to Damon. Sorry. I guess."

The reminder of Damon's betrayal seared her heart. How dare he mention it? Through gritted teeth, she breathed, "Everything that comes out of your mouth…" A lightbulb in the lamp above them burst. Hearing the tiny fragments of glass litter the bowl of the lamp checked her.

He went on. "You never cared what hurt me, so I returned the notion. But that's done and I'm over it. This is now. Truce. Clean slate."

"God I shouldn't be here with you. I'm so stupid."

"Bonnie. Why would I do anything that would jeopardize having a relationship with the only girl in the world?"

"I'll feed you. But we're not friends. This won't be a relationship. You have to relate to somebody before a relationship is possible. And as you've established, you can't relate to people. Whatever you did or didn't absorb from Luke."

"Oh, we relate," he smiled. "I'm the pig and you're the slop. You're going to hate it and love torturing me, and I'm going to love it, that and torturing you back." She glared and he quickly added, "Without hurting you, of course. We have an arrangement, Bon, therefore we have a relationship."

She shook her head incredulously, "What the fuck ever. Freak."

He shrank visibly at that one biting word, turning his attention down. To his beer, he said, "The feelings are still there, Bonnie. It just sucked to get my brand new feelings hurt, so I put them away for safe keeping."

Bonnie felt a twinge of guilt at his words, remembering too late that his family used to call him a freak for being a siphon instead of the substantial warlock that was expected of him. She couldn't tell if he was faking the hurt and she couldn't be sure if he really did hold her in high esteem at some point. In 1903, she had abandoned him to a fate she thought was worse than death, hoping he would suffer. And she had changed from the suffering he'd caused her first in 1994, but she shouldn't have let it darken her so deeply. Bonnie Bennett wasn't a cruel witch. She hated that he made her so.

She wanted to feel pain. She wanted to be punished for hurting him, even if he deserved what she'd done to him. There needed to be a leveling out between them, set in the eyes of each other. Though something told her they would never be equal, and if they strived to justify their actions, to decide who did or didn't deserve this or that wound or apology, they would end up killing each other. At the very least, she wanted to apologize for calling him that word.

She quickly downed the rest of her beer and banged the empty glass on the bar.

"More?" he smirked.

"I got it," she said.

On the other side of the bar, she poured herself a shot of vodka. She met his gaze before throwing it back and pouring a second shot. If she wasn't mistaken, she saw a hungry glint in his eyes just as she threw back the second shot. The way he looked at her… She took a third shot, set the glass down and focused her booze-blurry eyes on his.

She walked back around the bar. He stood as she reached his stool and they faced each other rather awkwardly. Like an apology, she gifted him her upturned, bleeding palm.