This Romeo is bleeding but you can't see his blood.

It's nothing but some feelings that this old dog kicked up

-Bon Jovi

#

Slamming the empty bourbon bottle on the table and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Bonnie grinned and turned to the swarthy rake perched beside her. She had ended up in that one place she had never imagined herself going back to. It was like revisiting the scene of a fresh crime. The Christmas lights were brighter than before and the juke box was still not functioning. It was the dive bar of their first would be interview, cranky and filthy like an old drunk.

It was a beautiful mess.

"Cinderella walks into a bar and-"Bonnie yelled through the heavy arcing wails of an electric guitar blaring from the old TV monitors.

"You're drunk, maybe you should go home" Damon said raising a finger to beckon the bartender for another bottle.

"Fuck my home, "she slurred snatching his untouched bourbon shot and grinning like a fool "let me finish my joke"

"More bourbon," he told the barman signalling two shots with his hand.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Alabama?"

"Obviously, "he grabbed his shot back from her before she could finish it and gulped it down "what else am I going to do with you?" his eyes narrowed, his lips curving into a smug smile.

"Cheers to me, Sleepless and fuckless in Seattle!" she slurred raising her glass and slumping up against Damon. His hide jacket felt soft against her wet cheek, soft and comforting.

"Here Here" he soothed, one hand wrapped around her shoulder and the other wound around his beer.

"How do I look?" she asked suddenly whirling him around in his bar stool to face her. She knew how she looked, ratty hair in a tangle, smeared lipstick and dried black mascara sluicing down her cheeks.

"Like a raccoon"

Bonnie tapped his chair with her foot, slapping him across his hard chest.

"Fancy," he teased "or maybe it's the dress that's wearing you" the smile was full, broad and smug.

"You're an idiot"

"So, where are you really from Yankee?"

"Mystic Falls, where the mistletoe is always hanging"

"Hmm…" He looked up at the neon lights hanging above them "there's a thought" he smirked with a wink.

"I'd have to kill you first" she chuckled gently tapping his jaw with her knuckles.

"What do you miss about back home?" Damon winked, brushing away her stinging tears with his calloused thumb. Bonnie's hand sprang up and held his hand in place, his thumb trailing her warm cheek.

"Are you a good guy Damon?" she asked softly, her eyes tracing the lines of his face.

"I'm a bad guy Bonnie, "he replied with a crack in his voice as he dove back into his drink "I'm sunrise guy, remember?"

"Yeah," she murmured shaking her head; shaking the impetuous noise the voices in her head were making "I miss the July fireworks. I miss my band uniform"

"So you were a band geek? I had you pegged as a cheerleader"

"Hmm, smooth…nope, no cheerleaders here?" she chuckled softly looking at him sideways. "I bet you were the star football player"

"Nah, my brother held that title, all American with sandy hair and all" he grinned into his glass "I was the freak smoking behind the bleachers "

"I specialize in freaks smoking behind bleachers" she smiled, her eyes tracing his nose, the furrow between his lips and chin and then back to the beautiful contours of his immaculate lips.

"Why did you call me?"

"I don't know" she croaked watching him over the lipstick smeared glass rim.

"You should go home" he breathed, a languid heat simmering in his indigo eyes.

"Make me"

"Bonnie, you really should" his eyes traced her soft moving mouth.

"And I told you to make me"

"You're drunk" he closed the gap between them, his eyes glimmering like some Greek metal in the flickering dim lights.

"Are you?"

"We should stop"

"Then make me"

"I should take you home" his eyes dropped to her quivering mouth, wet from the liquor.

"Then take me"

"Home"

"Make me" she couldn't move, she didn't want to move as his face leaned in closer to hers, and his warm liquor tainted breath dancing on her skin.

"Take you home?"

"Yes. Your place"

#########

They staggered into his unlit apartment, blue and green neon lights from the streets frolicking on his dark walls like northern lights. When Damon pulled up the light switch, the stark white light blinded them and buzzed in her ear.

"Lights off"

"Hmm, so she likes it in the dark"

"There will be no hanky panky here, Mr Salvatore"

Damon dimmed the lights as she turned her bare back to him. She could feel his eyes on her, tracing the curved line of her ass in the sparkling black sequin dress; they mapped out every soft inch of her as the northern lights played tricks on her glossy skin. Slowly, she peeled off the sleeves then let the dress fall to the floor before kicking it with her stiletto.

"How about some bourbon?" Bonnie requested with a simper over her naked shoulder.

"How about a t-shirt?" he cleared his throat, scratching his stubble jaw as his blue eyes tried to avoid her honeyed nakedness.

"Spoilsport!"

"Cocktease "

He laughed throwing her his old Knicks t-shirt. Bonnie pressed her wrinkled nose against it before sleeping it on.

"No cooties, scouts honour" Damon winked putting his hand over his heart.

#

She wasn't made for untidy rooms and rumpled beds but she looked damn good in his. Her soft hair stirred, a result from the vibration in the walls caused by the elevator rushing from one floor to the next. He found himself smiling, watching sunlight scuttle across her freckled skin as she turned in his bed.

His Bed. His.

His gut tightened with this desperate need to crawl into bed with her, to touch her and to hold her.

To keep her.

Damon regretted not ravaging her the night before, he knew he could have and dammit he had wanted her so much that the thought of it still made his crotch jerk. He couldn't do it though, couldn't disrespect her in that manner. He wished he was the other guy, the one she had been crying for, the one that she had been trying to forget. The guy that Damon hoped she had already forgotten.

"Alabama, "she spoke lifting her head and straining her spectacular green eyes to see him.

"Coffee?" he offered, shoving an inky black coffee in her hand. A coffee that he had been holding onto the entire time he'd been watching her.

"I need to go, "she said hoarsely, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and scrambling to her feet.

"You could stay, "his eyes drifted back into the cup, his finger running along the curved rim of the mug "we could grab some breakfast" something clogged his throat as he finished.

"'Thought sunrise guy didn't do breakfast" she chuckled dryly, slipping into her black sequin gown and pulling his Knicks t-shirt over her head, ruffling her tangled hair.

"He could make a few adjustments" he cleared his throat still glaring into the mug.

"No need" she said shaking her head and snatching her shoes and dainty purse.

Bonnie hovered by the open door, stroking a hand down the smooth bark before she looked up at him tentatively with a bashful smile.

"Thank you for last night"

"Anytime"

As she turned, she paused then glimpsed back at him "By the way, this never happened" she winked before heading out, leaving behind her a scent of sandalwood. She didn't smell grapey or sweet and he loved her scent. Damon loved the earthy warmth of it, like freshly cut wood in the middle of an Evergreen forest.

Bonnie was made for Alabama thunderstorms and rock n roll nights.

He must have stood there longer than he realized because the all-pervading peal of the telephone in his bedroom startled him out of his dream. Scurrying back into the haunted bedroom and jumping over the bare bed base, he lunged for the receiver.

"Yeah, "he yelled, his breath hastened.

"Hey Buddy, this is –"

He didn't need to explain, Damon recognized Alaric's gruff voice and his heart began to thud and bang at the walls of his chest like a heavy metal band's drum.

"You made it buddy, you're in the band"

Damon grinned like a hormonal tuba player who'd just lost his cherry to the leggy blond English teacher with the tight argyle sweaters. Alaric was his alchemist.